


The Pawsibilities Are Endless

by zooeyscigar



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Death of a pet, Discussion of BDSM, Flint is a mess, Friends to Lovers, Grief, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Sort Of, cats bring dumbasses together, flint is bodyshy, jam making as seduction tactic, silver is fond, silver likes pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zooeyscigar/pseuds/zooeyscigar
Summary: “You are one of the few people I’ll tolerate in town, probably because of that damned smile. Also because Rus adores you. And what cat loves their vet?”“Being tolerated. That’s what I’ve always thought was a good solid foundation for a friendship.” John smiled again, a little less brightly – more sideways, to be frank – and it was met with a sideways twitch of Flint’s mouth. Another win.“The point is, I’m here. If you need someone.”The AU that nobody asked for where John is a veterinarian and James makes jam. (IDK it made sense at the time)This started as a coping ficlet (or three) when my kitty was dying and spiraled out of control. So here's the parts from tumblr transferred over and then some.





	1. John Silver is a Sucker

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter depicts the euthanizing of a pet cat who is dying. Just putting that out there.

“Good morning, Pawsibility Animal Clinic, this is John Silver speaking,” John lilted into the phone.

“Silver. It’s James Flint. Icarus’ dad.” He said it as if John wouldn’t recognize his low, raspy voice. 

“Hey there. How’s our kitty friend doing? Can I help with anything?”

“Rus is… well.” Flint’s voice lost its resonance and sounded cramped in his throat. “I think he’s failing.”

John sat up straighter in his chair. “The medicine’s not helping?”

“He manages to hack it up every time I think I get it down him. He won’t eat or drink more than a bite or a drop, and he’s started seeking out dark corners to hide in.”

“Oh.”

“He’s not himself, doc.” There was a heavy silence, and then John heard what could only be a sniffling sound on the other end of the line and his heart ached for the man. 

Flint had owned Icarus for nearly a decade, and they were inseparable. For a ginger tom, Rus was frightfully cuddly and very attached to his owner. He enjoyed riding in the pickup truck to every farmer’s market where James sold his honey and jams and he spent those days curled up on a chair in the booth like the little prince he was. 

Everyone loved Rus. He was a people person, rubbing against and headbutting anyone who came near him. He was a very good salesman as well, curling his bright, twitchy tail around just the jar his customers always seemed to want. 

Very few people even thought kindly of Flint. He was the opposite of Rus - spiky and gruff. Though their coloring was nearly the exact same, no one would dream of petting Flint. Most people assumed they’d lose a limb if they tried. 

Only Rus was free with affection for Flint, and he was extravagant. The best purrs and cuddles were reserved for his owner, accompanied by little licks at his temples, paws around his neck. Rus even rode on Flint’s shoulders at times. 

The only times John had ever seen even a hint of a smile - or more like the lack of a frown - on Flint’s face were because of Rus. The loss of that cat, for Flint, might well be like losing the last ray of sunshine his life possessed. 

And no matter how big of a grump someone was, they didn’t deserve that.

“So, do you want to bring him in?”

“He’s… become averse to the truck.” Flint sounded completely lost at such a turn of events.

John was quick to change tack. “Shall I come over, then?”

“If you would.”

Apart from how he felt about the cat’s owner - and he felt a lot of things, few of them appropriate and none of them consistent in any way - John wouldn’t for one second deny Rus anything. “Gimme ten minutes.”

“Thanks, doc.”

Was that the first time Flint had thanked John in the three years he’d been Icarus’ vet? He shook his head. There was no use wasting time wondering. “Of course. Be right there.”

He packed his bag and was out the door two minutes later.

~~ 

John rapped at the screen door of Flint’s house and heard a faint “Come in” from somewhere inside. He scraped his boots on the mat, then stepped in with a possibly too cheery sing-song “Hello? Anyone home?”

“In here.” Flint’s voice seemed to come from the back of the house, and John followed it into the sunlit kitchen. 

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the corner of the room, his hand inside a basket that was turned on its side. It looked to be half-full of dishcloths, and a perfectly circular donut of orange fur. 

Flint looked wrecked. His chin-length hair had fallen out of its normal neat ponytail, he was wearing nothing more than a ratty t-shirt and boxers, his eyes were the sort of red that comes from crying, and his face had gone from perma-scowl to some sort of crumpled hopelessness. 

John didn’t know who to go to first, the cat or his owner. 

“I gave him some of that painkiller you gave me. He hates the pills though, so I crushed it and suspended it in water, and fed it to him with a sharpless syringe.”

“Smart. Did he drink it?”

“He hated every second of it, but he swallowed most of it instead of choking.” He looked as if he’d hated the procedure just as much as Rus, if not more. 

“It sucks to have to force things on them like that, I know. I’m sorry.”

Flint just nodded, jaw tightly shut, anguished eyes on Rus. 

John knelt down next to Flint and rested his hand on Flint’s shoulder as he bent over to look into the basket. “Is he asleep?”

“Not really, just doped up. I hate how he gets on this stuff but it seemed the humane thing. I’ve known him for ten years and I still have no idea when he’s in pain, but I erred on the side of caution.”

“Not a bad plan, though it can be hard to see him not his normal bright-eyed self. Mind if I…” John reached slowly out to Rus and Flint pulled his hand away and nodded, letting John pick the cat up. 

It was shocking how much weight he’d lost in the last week and a half. John could feel his bones through his skin. “Hey, pal. How are you feeling?” 

Rus blinked up at John but didn’t really acknowledge him. Flint reached out and scratched under his chin and he started purring, but possibly only out of habit. 

“There are tests I could run, which would help inform what options we have going forward.”

Flint was already shaking his head. “He’s given up. He doesn’t groom himself anymore. His favorite customer came over yesterday and he didn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t sleep–” Flint cut off abruptly and John busied himself with petting Rus until he continued, his voice choked and reedy. “He doesn’t sleep with me anymore. I found him curled up in this basket this morning, and when I brought him back to bed he got up off my chest and headed right back here. That’s when I called you.”

“When was the last time you could get the meds down him?”

“It’s a fight every time.” Flint grimaced as if a sharp pain had caught him in the side. “He gagged and then drooled them all out again last night. The foam on his lips was tinted pink. I won’t do that to him again.”

John held Rus close with one arm and touched Flint’s shoulder again, gently, this time. “That’s all right. We can try something–”

“It’s time, doc. Let’s end it. I’ll say goodbye and then…” Flint’s eyes were full of tears and his voice gave out before he could finish speaking. John didn’t blame him one bit.

He handed Rus over to Flint, saying, “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

Again, Flint said the word John hadn’t thought he was capable of saying: “Thanks.” It was nearly a whisper, covered over with unwelcome emotion, but the shape of it in his mouth was enough.  

John nodded and settled down to wait as Flint, with Icarus curled up in his arms, headed out the back door. 

~~

After checking his email and a precursory scroll through his facebook and twitter, John ventured to look out the kitchen window. He didn’t have any appointments that morning, but he did have things to get done, and walk-ins were likely. It’s not like there was any way of speeding this process along - John would never attempt that with anyone, let alone these two - but he wondered how far they’d gotten.

When he caught sight of them, Flint was crouched down near the blackberry bushes along the back fence, Rus secure in his arms, his mouth near Rus’ sun-soaked ear. It looked like Flint was talking to him about this season’s upcoming harvest. 

John couldn’t help watching their slow progress around the yard, stopping at the strawberry patch, the fruit trees, even the apiary, and the gentle way Flint pressed his nose to Rus’ nape as they went. 

John had been at this job a while now, and he’d helped a lot of furry friends into the next life, but it never got easier. And it would always catch him in the throat when a single person lost their only pet. 

This instance felt especially unfair, given how much Flint isolated himself socially. John had heard introverts could go entire days without interacting with other people, but he believed they must at some point need companionship. And if Rus was really Flint’s only outlet for that, well...

By the time Flint stepped back inside, whispering sweet endearments to Rus as if they were still alone, John’s eyes were moist. 

“It’s gonna be fine, buddy. I’ve got you. Silver’s gonna be gentle and I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m right here, champ. I won’t leave you. And you’ll rest under the juniper bush just like you love to do in the heat of the summer.” Flint’s voice went watery at the end and John surreptitiously wiped the wetness from his own eye. 

“You wanna hold him while I get the shot ready?” 

Flint just nodded and buried his face in Rus’ fur, making a kissing noise against his neck. Rus flicked an ear but had left off purring by now. His breathing was labored and John realized he couldn’t have timed this better had he personally been watching Rus all week for the right moment to let him go.

Without prompting, Flint got down on the floor again and settled Rus into the circle of his legs, his hands always running along Rus’ spine, his words of support and encouragement never slowing down. John knelt down next to him and helped to gentle Rus into a comfortable position, then took hold of his leg and injected the shot. 

“Good boy. You’ve been such a champ. Go ahead to sleep now. It’ll only be a few minutes,” John added to Flint as he set the syringe aside and settled in to sit with them both. 

“Do you need to…” Flint looked up like we was only now remembering that John was in the room, and in what capacity. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“I don’t have any appointments. I’ll stay until he’s gone, but I can give you space if you’d…?”

“No.” Flint didn’t say any more than that, but he leaned slowly over until his shoulder was against John’s. 

John supported his weight like that for a moment, then risked slipping his arm around Flint’s shoulders. He seemed to welcome the touch, so John left his arm there, and tried not to startle when Flint rested his head against John’s temple. 

“He just sort of fell into my lap, you know. I was all alone when this fearless stray came around and adopted me faster than I adopted him. From the outset he wouldn’t take my grumpiness seriously and definitely didn’t take my grudging no for an answer. He knew better than me what I needed, and man, did I need him.” 

“He’s a special guy. The whole town will mourn him.” 

“Don’t tell anyone yet. I can’t stand sympathy. If people start coming to my door with gifts or flowers or food I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” 

John huffed, amused, and nodded slowly, so as not to dislodge Flint’s head. “We’ll set up a chair at the market where people can leave stuff for  _ him _ , not you, and so you don’t have to talk to them.” 

“Yeah. Good. He’d like that.” 

John couldn’t see Flint’s face, thankfully, because the wet sniffles were back, and the shoulders under his arm had started to tremble. 

Icarus shuddered and let out one last breath, and then he was gone. 

Flint buried his face in the hair at John’s neck and sobbed, once, loudly. After which, his shoulders shook hard with held back emotion. John wrapped both arms around him and held on for dear life, his own eyes wet once again. It didn’t take long for Flint’s hands to leave Rus’ body and clutch at John’s shirt. 

John couldn’t help wondering if this was the most human contact Flint had experienced in a while, and the thought made him hold on tighter and longer than he might normally have let himself. 

At some point, Flint’s body finally relaxed, and his breathing, though ragged, had settled from irregular gasps to slow breaths. He seemed to be giving John most of his weight, and John was more than happy to support it. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you.”

At John’s quiet words, Flint seemed to come back to himself and he sat up, wiping his face on his shirt. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I…” He sniffed and waved his hand in front of his face, either to dismiss what John could see of his emotions there, or in an attempt to hide them. 

“James, you’re allowed. He was your best friend.”

Flint scowled for a moment, then his face went back to its normal frown, now tinged with sorrow. “Sure I’m allowed, but I don’t need to dump it all on you. You see this sort of thing all the time. I’m just…”

“That doesn’t make me any less here for you. Rus was a lovely cat, and I’ll mourn him the same as the rest of town. And as your friend I’ll also be here for you as you deal with the loss. Don’t diminish–”

“My friend?” It might have been meant as a sneer but it came out as incredulous. “Since when?”

“Since…” John was so surprised by the question he drew a blank. “Is there supposed to be a moment when you decide you’ve known someone long enough to call each other friend? If so, haven’t we passed it? I’ve been buying honey from you for years. I’ve treated Rus for bee stings and ear mites and kept him up to date on his shots for years. We have been as friendly as you’ll allow for a while now, haven’t we?” 

“…as I’ll allow?” Flint looked genuinely shocked by the words. 

“I’ve had multiple people tell me to not waste my time being nice to you, that it’ll only ever be met with disdain, that you don’t need anyone and make that abundantly clear all the time. I’ve ignored them. And you’ve been civil with me, always, even deigning to pass the time of day with me. Actual chit chat, we’ve had. I count it a major win, honestly.” He couldn’t help beaming at Flint, whose confused face twitched at the sight of John’s smile. It was possibly a little too bright, under the circumstances. 

“You _ are _ one of the few people I’ll tolerate in town, probably because of that damned smile. Also because Rus adores you. And what cat loves their vet?”

“Being tolerated. That’s what I’ve always thought was a good solid foundation for a friendship.” John smiled again, a little less brightly – more sideways, to be frank – and it was met with a sideways twitch of Flint’s mouth. Another win. 

“The point is, I’m here. If you need someone.”

Flint’s face softened, not with pain or sadness, but something lighter. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were as piercing as ever, but it colored his voice as he said, “I don’t need someone; I need  _ you. _ You were here for this. You understand. He loved you. And I… I’m grateful.”

He looked down at Rus, still curled up in his lap, and added, “Honestly, if anyone else had answered the phone, I would have hung up.”

“Are you saying you only realized that we’re friends today?”  

“…possibly.” Flint’s mouth turned down at the edges, but when he looked at John his eyes crinkled in a friendly fashion. “Will you stay for the burial?” 

“I’d be honored.”


	2. James Flint is a Hot Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Catch you at a bad moment?”  
> “Not if you wait about a minute and a half.”  
> Silver started fidgeting after fifteen seconds. “What if I helped.”  
> “Hands off, Silver. I won’t have your mangy hands ruining my gooseberry harvest.”  
> “Hey! I haven’t had a case of mange in… weeks.”  
> James paused mid lid-screwing and stared at him. Scowled might be a more appropriate word. “You’re joking.”  
> Silver’s blankly innocent face cracked and revealed that devilish, dangerous smile. “I am. It’s been at least a year. Maybe two. We’re careful with strays and quarantine any suspected case immediately.”

After the emotional turmoil of the last few days of Rus’ illness and the torrent of tears as he’d shuffled off this mortal coil, the burial was… uneventful.

Well, the digging of the grave was mildly exasperating because Silver couldn’t hold the branches of the juniper out of the way well enough so James could dig the hole properly, but they managed. And to be honest, James wouldn’t have been able to do that part alone half as well or quickly.

Silver said some trite but well-meaning words over the grave, then said he needed to get back to work but he’d stop by later to ‘check in.’ James wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Besides, he had work of his own to do. The gooseberries were ready for harvesting.

It didn’t feel right to be crouching in the sun, picking berries off a bush, and _not_ have Rus brushing against his legs, sniffing in the berry basket, or twitching his tail in a sunny patch of grass nearby. It in fact felt quite horrible to not have someone to talk to about how tart even the ripest berries tasted and how many jars of jam he’d be able to get from the bounty this year.

James had never realized how much he talked to himself until there wasn’t someone around who could be his excuse, even if that someone was only a cat.

_Only a cat._

As if Rus had been simply a housepet and not James’ constant companion and partner in crime.

He’d already finished washing and sorting the fruit by lunchtime, and as he started making himself a sandwich it occurred to him he’d be done with jam making by dinnertime, with nothing to occupy him the rest of the evening.

Well, there was always that bottle of Johnny Walker and a record collection full of oldtime country music to wallow in…

Except of course just as James was about to seal all the newly sterilized and filled jars of jam, there was a knock on the screen door and a cheerful “Halloooo” that sounded suspiciously like a certain smiley animal doctor he knew.

One that he’d just made the mistake of admitting into the friendzone. (That was a thing now, wasn’t it? He’d swear he’d heard The Youth saying something about it.)

“What.”

James focused on screwing the lids on the piping hot jars before he got distracted and they cooled too much or were contaminated somehow. And yet he could still pick out Silver’s footsteps as they tramped through his house to the kitchen.

“Catch you at a bad moment?”

“Not if you wait about a minute and a half.”

Silver started fidgeting after fifteen seconds. “What if I helped.”

“Hands off, Silver. I won’t have your mangy hands ruining my gooseberry harvest.”

“Hey! I haven’t had a case of mange in… _weeks_.”

James paused mid lid-screwing and stared at him. Scowled might be a more appropriate word. “You’re joking.”

Silver’s blankly innocent face cracked and revealed that devilish, dangerous smile. “I am. It’s been at least a year. Maybe two. We’re careful with strays and quarantine any suspected case immediately.”

With one skeptical eyebrow high, James eyed Silver while finishing up the lid sealing. “And what, pray tell, has brought you here? And with packages?”

“Is it not obvious? I said I’d be back.” He thumped his burdens down on the counter and turned to James, hand on hip.

“To ‘check in’ you said. You’re not about to give _me_ a physical now, are you?”

One eyebrow made its jaunty way up Silver’s forehead and James regretted his words. “I wouldn’t step on Doc Howell’s territory for all the world, nor would I incur your wrath by bringing a gift of food, but! I thought if we _shared_ a meal, that wouldn’t be the same thing, would it?”

He opened a bag and started pulling one takeout container after the other from its depths. The room was suddenly filled with the smell of Chinese food and the savory scent usurped the sweetness of the jam in James’ nostrils. His stomach growled before he could.

“Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement. Do you have forks lying around? I’m starving.” Silver was opening and peeking into each container as if looking for a specific order. It felt like he’d brought enough food for four people.

Instead of searching for utensils when chopsticks were in plain view, James reached for the other bag Silver had brought. Peering inside he found two six packs of beer - a respectable microbrew that was more malt than hops, thank God. He extracted two and popped the tops off with his wall-mounted bottle opener.

“Cheers,” Silver said, his eyes wide and ocean blue as James handed him one of the bottles. He pointed to a couple containers and said, “I wasn’t sure if you were a moo shu pork or a rainbow fried rice sort of guy. There’s also garlic broccoli because I hear vegetables are important.”

“What if I want that?” James pointed to the container in Silver’s hands and he tipped it enough to show what was inside.

“I can’t imagine you’re into sweet and sour chicken. The sauce is a brighter pink than your salmonberry jelly.” James scrunched up his nose and Silver chuckled, his white teeth showing, foxlike. “Glad I know you well enough to have gotten that right.”

“I don’t object to the color, but It’s like eating candy for dinner. That sauce is sweeter than the jam I just made.”

“Speaking of… which fruit made the ultimate sacrifice today?” Silver peeked into the saucepan near his elbow and ran a pinky along the edge, bringing up a smear of jam that he popped into his mouth before James could answer. He coughed, possibly to cover a grimace, as he said, “Oh. That’s not what I expected.”

“Gooseberries are tart. Their jam shouldn’t be overly sweet. My most discerning customers know this and appreciate it.”

“Well, I never purported to be one of _them,_ after all. I’ll stick with my sweet and _not_ sour chicken.”

“As you please,” James muttered as he poked around in the moo shu fixings, wondering if the work of assembly would be worth it.

~~

The moo shu was worth it, and the beer, especially chilled, was delicious, and sitting on the back steps and chatting about nothing - or really just letting Silver run his mouth about whatever popped into his brain and grunting in either approval or not - was up to the challenge of filling James’ evening in a surprisingly pleasant manner.

All of this didn’t erase the heartache of missing Rus, but it definitely eased the loneliness that James had been dreading upon the setting of the sun.

Of course it mostly just managed to push the dreaded part of the evening to bedtime, instead.

They’d been listening to old records for hours, each having polished off a six pack in the process, and they were four songs into Ledbelly’s album _The Midnight Special_ by the time Silver made noises about leaving. They’d fallen silent at the start of the record, and James had forgotten how melodious Silver’s voice was.

“I… shit. I’ve got work in the morning.”

“You also shouldn’t drive yet.” James knew he shouldn’t push, that Silver had every right to not want to stay, but he wasn’t wrong.

“It’ll be fine.” Silver waved off the concern as he stood, but he listed to the side dangerously enough that if there hadn’t been a railing he would have toppled off the steps.

“John…”

“Don’t. I – _don’t._ That’s not fair. You _never_ call me by my first name and now…”

James stood, his hands out at his sides in case Silver’s balance was threatened again. “All right, doc, I’m sorry. We can be the kind of friends that only use last names.”

“We already _were_ that. At least I thought we were. But then I learn we weren’t even friends _at all_ until today, soooooo…”

“I’m sorry about that, too. I’m not used to humans _wanting_ to be friends with me.”

“I dunno why not, you’re lovely.” Silver tilted again and stepped sideways to catch himself and ended up with his hip pressed against one of James’ outstretched arms.

Reflexively, James clutched the back of Silver’s shirt to hold him in place, and Silver made a broken sound, holding his hands up in surrender. James let go of him as quickly as he could without letting Silver fall.

If Silver didn’t want James to touch him, that was fine. Really it was. James cleared his throat, but could find nothing to say.

“I should go. It’s been a long day. You’re prolly sick of me.” Silver’s grin was a breath away from a grimace.

“I don’t think you should drive, doc. Please stay. There’s a bed…”

Silver’s eyebrows were high on his forehead. “You just… you didn’t push me away. And you said please? Another win!”

James couldn’t help a bit of a smirk at that as he ushered Silver into the house, lending assistance only when necessary.

He cleared off the daybed in the front room and pulled the covers down. As he fluffed an extra pillow he motioned to SIlver. “All yours for the night.”

As Silver sat down on the bed to wrestle his boots off, he asked, “And where will you be?”

Pointing the way, James replied, “My bedroom’s back through there. The bathroom’s on the right, my room’s on the left.”

And then, he didn’t have any reason to still be standing there, and Silver looked like he was about to shuck off his pants, so James left him to it.

~~

Lying awake in bed James started to wonder if his inability to sleep was due to the quietness. Rus wasn’t a snorer, but just having another body in the bed with him helped ground James in ways that an empty, silent room couldn’t.

Thankfully, a series of quiet noises came from the front room. James could hear Silver’s footsteps coming down the hall and hated himself for wishing Silver would turn left instead of right.

John SIlver had been an actual real friend all day, and James had no idea how to thank him or reciprocate. It had been a very long time since he’d been offered friendship by someone other than Rus and he was feeling a little off-kilter. Especially when that friendship was coming from the most beautiful man in town - and possibly the kindest as well.

James heaved a great sigh and rolled over, trying not to listen out for when Silver left the bathroom.

He didn’t have to wait long because a minute later, Silver was in the doorway, whispering a soft “Good night, James.”

Instead of acting like a regular grown-up person and responding, James pretended he was already asleep and didn’t answer, his heart pounding loud in his ears at the sound of his name in Silver’s mouth. It sounded like Silver waited only half a minute before heading back down the hall to his single bed.

For the next hour and a half, James tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep, berating himself for setting himself up to fail so spectacularly.

Sleep continued to elude him, so he finally stopped trying and got up. He snuck out to the back steps and sat drinking water and humming softly to himself, watching the dark sky slowly lighten in preparation for the sun.

Nights like this, when James’ brain wouldn’t stop, Rus would slink up to him at some point and crawl into his lap. His weight and the rumble of his purr would combine to help James feel sleepy again, and he’d carry Rus back to bed with him and get a few hours’ rest before morning.

Tonight he was at a loss, and sitting there waiting for his furry friend to show up felt like some sort of self-harm, so he got up, joints creaking, and headed back into the house.

Passing the front room on the way to his own, he could hear Silver’s heavy, rhythmic breaths, and felt his shoulders ease down from his ears at the sound. It couldn’t hurt to just listen for a little while to help slow his own heartbeat into something resembling sleep tempo, right?

He tiptoed in and curled up on the overstuffed chair near the daybed. The outline of Silver’s form under the sheet was vague in what little light slanted in from the streetlamp outside. He seemed so abandoned to his slumber — limbs askew, hair everywhere, dead to the world and dreaming. Just the sort of calm that could seep into James’ bones and make his flesh feel heavy. If he allowed himself a few minutes right here in Silver’s presence, it would be just enough time to slow his brain, make his eyelids droopy…

And then the birds were chirping.

Morning light was streaming through the windows, James had a crick in his neck, Silver’s dark curls were still fanned out over his pillow, and his bright blue eyes were open and focused on him.

“’Morning. Everything all right?”

“What? Yes, of course.”

“Worried I was going to choke on my own vomit or something? You know I wasn’t that drunk.”

“No, I know. I…” James sat up in the chair, his bare feet dropping to the bare floor. He felt insufficiently clothed, even though Silver had seen him in boxers only just yesterday morning. “…had a hard time sleeping.”

“You can’t tell me that chair is more comfortable than your bed.”

“No, not really.” James rose to his feet, scratching his head. “Coffee?”

Silver looked at him for way too long before answering, “Sure.”

James escaped to the kitchen to start the water boiling, but Silver padded in a few moments later, jeans on but belt loose and unbuckled in its loops. “Two theories: One, when you can’t sleep you end up on the daybed, but it was occupied so you took the chair. And two, Rus helps you sleep and in his absence I was your consolation prize.”

Shoulders up to his ears once more, James couldn’t hide the defensiveness in his voice as he said, “I didn’t ask you to stay for any reason other–”

“I know. I really wasn’t fit to drive. I should have stopped at four beers, but an empty house doesn’t tempt one home…”

Ducking into the mug cabinet to hide the surprise on his face, James barely managed to keep it out of his voice. “You’re a vet and you don’t have pets at home?”

“Lost the pupper in the divorce and fed the kit-kats before coming over.”

James just blinked at him, mugs forgotten in his hands. “Divorce?”

“Spiritual, not legal. I moved here with a partner, but she quickly decided it was not the place for her, long term. Or maybe I wasn’t. She left more than two years ago, and I haven’t found the right doggo to adopt yet.” The narrative lilt to his voice made it sound like Silver had a set story he told and he didn’t like deviating from it.

Changing the subject felt like the kindest option. “Cats plural? How many?”

“Just two - littermates. They’re inseparable and for how little I’m home I’m glad they have each other to play with.”

“I bet they’ll be happy to see you. Should I put your coffee in…” He reached back into the cabinet and pulled out a to-go cup.

Silver pressed his lips together as if contemplating a difficult decision. He glanced at the stove clock and his lips pulled to the side. “Yeah, probably. Sorry. I should change and I’m on front desk duty at nine.”

“No apology necessary, but it will take a few minutes. Enough time for a bite of toast, you think?”

“I do,” Silver said with a wide, toothy grin. It was the exact same smile that had first drawn James in, but he now knew better than to let it look like a promise. At least, not of anything more than this odd, too fast friendship they’d struck upon. He hadn’t failed to notice the pronoun Silver used in his story, after all.

“Good. Raid the fridge for whatever jams you’d like.”

It took Silver nearly the entire time the bread was toasting to whittle his choices down to two jams - blackberry and strawberry-pear. They munched toast quietly while the french press steeped, the only interruptions being Silver’s pleased sounds and smacking lips.

“Blackberry wins, but only just,” he pronounced, mouth half-full with the last crust of his toast.

“The amount of blood lost in the making of that jam, I’d hope it was worth it.”

Silver frowned, then his face brightened as he said, “Oh! Thorns? Yeah, those brambles are the worst.”

“A free jar of jam and all the blackberries you can eat if you help harvest next month. My forearms can only take so many scratches.”

“Deal,” Silver said with another wide grin. “I’d do it for nothing, though. After all, what are friends for?”

~~

Having Silver as a friend meant getting used to company at odd times. Well, not odd necessarily, not for James, though it did seem like Silver might’ve had better things to do on a Saturday morning than to hang around James’ booth at the farmer’s market, idly chatting with the customers when they were there and with James when they weren’t. He was a font of gossip and would usually tell James something interesting about the person who had just visited the booth. Apart from what their favorite type of jam was, which was the sum total of James’ knowledge of most of them.

James had to admit that he’d never really had to chit chat with his customers because they were always drawn to Rus, and he’d been dreading learning that elusive skill now that Rus was gone.

But Silver took up the onerous task as if he reveled in it, saving James from having to do much more than his normal routine: nod gruffly and bag up folks’ purchases, take their money and give them change.

Having an assistant felt both familiar and painful, and James struggled against the hurt of letting Silver help - of both needing and allowing someone to do Rus’ office. But he couldn’t let himself snap at a friend, especially one whom Rus had loved, at that.

And so he frowned and swallowed his grief, trying to find a way of letting it come out as gratitude instead. Not that he was very good at that, either, but he damned well wasn’t going to let his sorrow show in such a public arena. After all, Silver didn’t deserve that, not when he was only trying to be kind and help out.

As he was packing up his wares at the end of the day, he handed Silver a small jar of clover honey - the type he usually bought - and in the face of SIlver’s confused but delighted expression, he muttered, “You earned it.”

“I wasn’t trying to… I was just being nice.”

“Well, you’re a lot better at it than I am.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to pay me for my company, James.”

“It’s… a gift. Of my appreciation.”

“You’re an odd duck, Flint. You could just say thank you like a normal person, but no.”

“Fine I’ll take it back and—”  

Silver slapped at James’ reaching hand and clutched the jar to his chest. “No! It’s mine. I earned it.”

James turned around to load his crates of jars into his truck, but also to hide his smile at Silver’s silliness, and he nearly missed what Silver said next.

“I’m heading to Max’s table, then. Come with me?”

“Why?”

“She makes this amazing whole wheat bread that is to die for when covered in your honey. Come have something sweet with me for once.”

“I eat sweet things. I make _jams,_ after all.”

“Just come.”

“I’m _packing up._ If you’re in such a hurry, help.”

So he did. And then they went to the bread table. Silver bought a loaf of the aforementioned bread, chatting flirtatiously with Max the baker, then broke off two fist-sized hunks and made James hold them as he drizzled too much honey on each.

James had to agree it was delicious, but all he did was nod with his mouth full when Silver raised his eyebrows in a way that clearly said, “See?”

Their hands were messy with honey when they’d finished and Silver led them to the drinking fountain to rinse off, saying, “When was the last time you went to the beach?”

“Sorry, what?”

“The _beach._ Sand, water, sun…”

“I’m not that into the sun.”

“Beach umbrellas exist. It’s summer. The ocean is _right there.”_

“And I appreciate its bounty. Crab, salmon, oysters…”

“You don’t like the water?”

“I…” James had sort of felt he’d outgrown the beach, somehow. That no one wanted a grumpy old man ruining their fun holiday. But Silver was right, and that was silly. Maybe he just hadn’t had anyone to go with in a long time. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“You can borrow one of mine. Let’s go.”

“What, now?”

“Why not? It’s only two.” He ran his wet fingers through his curls and James couldn’t stop himself from wondering what Silver’s hair looked like underwater. Or wet and streaming down his bare back. “Unless you have somewhere to be?”

Shaking his head to rid himself of the image, James said, “Nope.”

“Great. You can leave your stuff at my house when we stop there to change.”

~~

Silver’s extra suit was a tad small on James, but not uncomfortably so. Not until he got it wet while chasing Silver into the water. That man was gorgeous in every way - his sun-burnished skin, his eyes and smile, his hair, his hands, and his fucking torso, which he revealed shortly after they’d set up their blanket and beach umbrella near the high tide mark. His legs too, while James was at it. He looked like he must work out, or at least jog a bunch, though James hadn’t heard him mention a routine of any kind.

James didn’t take off his shirt even in the water. He wasn’t too out of shape since he still did a bunch of manual labor for a living, but he was a bit… thick around the waist. That and the sun would fry him immediately if he didn’t cover up.

And thankfully the shirt was long enough, especially when wet, to cover his hips, because damn.

Why had he allowed the most beautiful man he’d ever met to befriend him again? It was delight and torture in equal measure, all the fucking time.

Silver didn’t notice - he was too busy romping in the water, dolphin-diving through the waves and spouting water like a whale. He actually literally did that thing where you flip your hair out of the water and make a rainbow of droplets sparkle in the sun. It was… a lot. Especially when he grinned like a kid on Christmas at James right after as he wiped the water from his face.

James swallowed and treaded water, keeping all of him but his head and shoulders below the surface. Smiling wasn’t something he did at people, but he tried not to frown excessively just to keep his composure.

Why had he agreed to this outing again?

Oh yeah, because swimming in the ocean was actually really healing and wonderful. James had forgotten how the water held him and let him move freely at once. It felt so good to be carried upon the waves, to slip under them and cut through the depths, even to simply feel the tug of the tide on his legs as he stood in the shallows.

It shouldn’t have brought up so many feelings, but it did, all in a rush, knocking him over when he wasn’t looking. He wept, heart full, salt for salt, on his hands and knees in the shallows, his hair and the low sun heavy on his neck. This too felt good, cleansing, the salt water scouring him clean, inside and out, the low keening in his throat expelling the tight ball of sorrow that had been knotting up his guts.

A hand on his back was the first he knew of Silver’s presence. When James opened his eyes Silver was sitting on his heels next to him, looking down at the rippling water running over James’ half-buried hands. Silent. Supportive. Seemingly willing to sit there as long as James needed.

Such a transparent display of care for him shocked James out of his despair. A cold shiver ran through him and without meaning to he tipped over to sit on his left haunch, pressing into SIlver’s warmth. Silver’s arm slipped around his shoulders and fitted James right against his side, solid and sure.

“Sorry–”

“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Everything’s right up at the surface these days.”

“That’s what grief does. A sneak attack sometimes, when you’re not expecting.”

“Yeah.” James sniffed. “Glad you end up being around when it happens though.”

“Yeah?” Silver pressed his cheek to the side of James’ head. “I don’t want to intrude, but if I can support…”

“You’re doing great. I dunno what I did to deserve–”

“It’s not about deserving, but honestly, you were just yourself. Unapologetically so. And that’s admirable. Also intriguing.” Silver’s arm loosened around James’ shoulders and slid down the middle of his back to wrap around his waist. His face turned to press into James’ ropey, damp hair, his breath warming James’ neck. The feel of Silver all around him was overwhelming, though James wouldn’t pull away from it for the life of him. “I’ve been hoping you would let me in for a long time, but if you feel like I’m taking advantage of the situation–”

“No. I’m grateful.” Heart at his throat, James touched SIlver’s thigh with his fingertips, a there-and-gone pressure just to emphasize his point. “I’m just a fucking mess and can’t be a good friend to you. Don’t really remember how, to be honest.”

“It’ll come. In the meantime, I’ll be here.”

It was subtle enough that James could have missed it if he hadn’t been aching for it to happen, but just before Silver pulled away, he pressed his lips to James’ skull. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but nonetheless it filled James with a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.

“Thank you, John. I…” James brought his hand back to rest lightly on Silver’s thigh. “I appreciate it - you. Thank you.”

Silver paused a moment, his gaze seemingly arrested by James’ freckled hand on his tanned skin. Then he took hold of James hand, got to his feet, and made as if to help James to his. James let him.

“You’re welcome James. Any time.”

They didn’t let go of each other’s hands until they were halfway up the sand to their blanket. And James couldn't let go of the thrill of Silver's touch for much longer. 


	3. Putting the Pause in Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s about time.”  
> Bright, inquisitive, green eyes blinked up at him from his lap as Flint asked, “Time for what?”  
> “You let someone,” John said with a confused frown. He hadn’t though he was being cryptic.   
> “Let someone, what?” Flint queried, eyes wide, one hand on Scout’s back, the other snaking between the couch and John’s hip.   
> Oh God, so many options. Too many. All of them wrong for this moment. And Flint’s touch wasn’t helping in the least.   
> “Care for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part that was previously posted on tumblr, now new and improved.

A newly showered and dressed James Flint was sitting on John’s couch, scratching the chin of one cat and providing a napping substrate for the other in the form of his lap, and John was having a hard time coping with the scene.

“You  _ are _ a pretty boy, aren’t you?” Flint said in a softer voice than John thought capable of him. “Look at you. What a love.”

John’s face felt hot even though he was pretty sure words like that would never be for him. Flint had said as much earlier, at the beach, hadn’t he? He wasn’t ready for anything but their quiet, casual friendship and might never be able to do more than this. 

John knew he wanted something impossible. He’d known it before Flint had implied as much. Didn’t mean he’d been ready to hear it. Didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to kiss Flint just as much after it was said. 

Didn’t mean his heart wasn’t captured by the image of his cats falling in love with Flint as they both sat there, skin sun-kissed and muscles wrung out by the waves, tired in a way that only a summer day fully lived can make you. 

Flint’s arm was nearly above John’s knee, close enough to touch, though he wouldn’t. Not after showing too much of his hand while holding Flint in the shallows earlier. But there was no harm in looking his fill, and oh, did John fully enjoy the soft ginger-blond hairs and the copper freckles of Flint’s forearm. The hard muscles moved under his pale skin as he continued to scratch Jem’s chin and cheeks and ears - everywhere Jem moved his head for James to reach. 

Scout on the other hand was happily asleep, stretched along the valley between Flint’s thighs, belly exposed to attack and thinking nothing of it. How Flint had so completely charmed both cats so quickly was anyone’s guess, though John couldn’t help assume the kittens took their cue from their owner in this case. If John could be spread across Flint’s lap, being scratched in all the right places, he too would be in heaven. 

And if cuddling by proxy was the only way he’d get it, John wouldn’t complain. 

Why, oh why, had he fallen for the least available person in town? (And when had this latent crush blossomed into full-bore pining, anyway?) Oh right, because Flint was magnificent in his beauty and terrifying in his aspect and John had never learned to run  _ away _ from the promise of danger - it had always excited him too much. 

And so, John sat on the couch, one leg up underneath him so he could face Flint, his temple resting against the back of the couch, and watched with a fond smile on his face as Flint gathered Jem up in his arms and kissed his head. 

And then, before he even realized why, his hand was on Flint’s shoulder, the back of his neck, in his hair, as Flint slowly toppled over into him, his shoulders shaking in grief. 

“I’m sorry. Oh God I’m so sorry, I didn’t think...” John murmured as he scrambled to figure out how to hold Flint in this position.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m just...” Flint gasped between held-back sobs. “He smells like Rus.” 

Scout had clambered out of Flint’s lap and climbed onto the back of the couch, one paw tentatively resting on Flint’s shoulder, face turned curiously down to study this odd human behavior. Jem had a look of quiet alarm and didn’t try to crawl out of Flint’s arms until they’d both landed in John’s. 

“It’s all right. Everybody’s okay, aren’t we? I’ve got you.”

The grief tempest passed as quickly as it had come and Flint was breathing deeply and sighing before John had fully assessed whether he needed to do something more to help. And somehow Flint had let himself slide down until his head was resting on John’s knee, and John’s fingers were combing through his damp hair before he could catch himself.

Flint sighed again and held his curled hand out for Scout to sniff. She stepped onto his chest to investigate further and he let her, speaking softly once again. “Thankfully.” 

John didn’t realize Flint was speaking to him and not Scout for long enough it was awkward when he blurted out, “It’s about time.”

Bright, inquisitive, green eyes blinked up at him from his lap as Flint asked, “Time for what?”

“You let someone,” John said with a confused frown. He hadn’t though he was being cryptic. 

“Let someone, what?” Flint queried, eyes wide, one hand on Scout’s back, the other snaking between the couch and John’s hip. 

Oh God, so many options. Too many. All of them wrong for this moment. And Flint’s touch wasn’t helping in the least. 

“Care for you.”

Flint’s eyes broke contact with John’s to look at Scout, who was nudging his hand for chin scratches. 

“I don’t know how.” Flint huffed an unamused laugh. “Just ask my ex. She left after our husband died and I shut down and turned inward instead of sharing our grief, as she wanted. Needed. Had every right to claim.”

_ Our _ husband? John felt as though he’d just tumbled into very deep water, unsure which way was up.

He had to clear his throat before speaking. “Everyone deals with loss differently. You’re not to be blamed for that.”

“She certainly did.” Flint scratched Scout’s chin a little too roughly, but she seemed into it. John didn’t blame her, either. 

He continued combing his fingers through Flint’s hair, scratching lightly along his scalp, hoping to ease the deep furrows in his forehead a bit. He succeeded, but Flint went from looking angry to looking sad, so he couldn’t call it a win. 

They were quiet for a minute but John had a feeling Flint was waiting for some sort of reaction from him, so he simply said, “Sounds like you’ve had a lot of love in your life. Is it worth it now to shut yourself away from the prospect of more?”

Flint shifted on the couch, careful to not unsteady Scout, and settled the flat of his other hand against the small of John’s back. “It was when I had Rus as a companion in my solitude.”

“What about now?”

“Right now?” Flint’s piercing green eyes were blinking back up at John, who executed a combined nod and shrug and held his breath for the answer. “Right now, right here, like this, feels good.”

John surreptitiously breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad.”

Flint looked back down at Scout and scratched between her ears. “At least this sweet little kitten seems happy to let me pet her.” He absently rubbed circles into the small of John’s back as he focused on the delighted kitten purring on his chest. 

The pleasure of Flint’s touch combined with the contentment of the two creatures practically in his lap short-circuited John’s brain and let his mouth run loose. “She’s not the only one.”

Oh, that was too far. John bit his lip and braced himself for Flint’s reaction. Right away he raised his head off John’s knee and pulled his hand away from John’s back, which left him bereft. 

Except Flint didn’t seem to be pulling away because of John. Instead, he sat up, letting Scout bound off to the arm of the couch, and was looking around the room as if he’d lost something. “Oh yeah. Where is that little guy, I hope I didn’t scare him off earlier.”

God _ damn _ it. Upstaged by a fucking cat. John rolled his eyes, his voice flat as a pancake. “No, asshole. This one.”

Flint turned to look at John, face blankly curious, and John watched him catch up to his meaning in slow motion. He’d laugh about it later, but it was truly one of the most endearing things he’d ever seen. Flint’s understanding came tinged with disbelief, so John held his breath and went all-in, brushing his fingers down Flint’s upper arm - a tentative touch, nearly reverent in its gentleness. It might have been the first time he’d initiated touch with Flint that wasn’t for comfort in his grief. 

Flint watched the progress of John’s fingers then cleared his throat. “John, I’m bad at... things.”

“I’m not asking for anything. This, right now, like this, feels good. Right?”

“Yeah, but—” 

“I don’t need anything more.”

“But the question is...” Flint reached out and took John’s hand in both of his. “What do you  _ want?” _

John swallowed against a lump in his throat that had come out of nowhere. “Nothing you can’t give.”

Nodding, Flint bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to John’s knuckles. 

John stared. Did that just happen? He never wanted to forget the look and feel of this moment, even if things never went further than this.

“But what do you want?” Flint’s fond, barely-there half smile was better than any grin John had ever seen. 

“You,” he laughed, breathless with the truth. “What else?”

Chuckling, Flint leaned half against the couch and half against John’s shoulder. “I’m a shit friend. What makes you think I’d be any better as a lover?”

“This,” John said with as much sincerity as he could find in himself. He waved vaguely at their bodies sprawled across the couch, the kit-kats perched on its arm and back, the beers they’d forgotten on the floor, the evening sun slanting through the blinds. This sad little house finally feeling like a home now there was someone else in it with him. He was a simple man; he really didn’t need much to be happy.

Though, after a moment he squeezed Flint’s fingers and added, “And because you kissed my hand like a gallant, eighteenth century gentleman, for fuck’s sake.”

At that, Flint barked out a laugh and launched himself at John, growling and nipping at his ear and neck. His teeth and beard were sharp and scratchy and tickly and perfect against the sensitive skin. 

John yelped and pretended to fend him off, failing joyously and giggling like a fiend. “Get off, you monster! Jesus!”

Flint paused, breath heaving, looking John in the face to ask seriously, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes,” John replied, suddenly breathless, “but only so I can do this.”

He leaned in slowly, giving Flint every opportunity to back away, and planted the softest kiss he could on Flint’s barely parted lips. A small, broken noise came from Flint’s chest and John pulled away, but only an inch, his breath ghosting across Flint’s mouth as he said, “Do you want  _ me _ to stop?”

“No,” Flint breathed, “but I’m  _ very _ old fashioned and I feel that we should.” He collapsed against John, head on his chest, and sighed deeply. “Also, my heart’s not used to this sort of thing.”

John heard Flint’s gentle self-mockery as an apology and also a confession, so he kept quiet and just wrapped his arms around Flint’s shoulders, trying not to hold on too tightly. 

“If you insist on trying  _ this,”  _ \- Flint too waved vaguely in a way that encompassed at least the entire couch - “I must warn you I only go at a glacial pace. Which isn’t fair, I know, but.”

John allowed himself one tiny kiss to Flint’s hair before saying, “I don’t mind.”

“You will. I’ll try your patience sorely.”

“Try me. Seriously.”

Adjusting his weight on John’s chest, Flint muttered, “Glutton for punishment.” 

“That too, though I’m guessing we should hold off on that for a good while.” Flint raised his head and squinted at John, making him chuckle. “All right, old man, we’ll go slow. Like, eighteenth century-slow. As long as we can still be friends and hang out while we’re moving at a snail’s pace, I really don’t care.”

Flint rested his head back over John’s heart. “Yeah, good. I’m a champion hand-holder. And you are hereby offered a standing invitation to taste-test every jam I make. And I still expect your help on the blackberry harvest. And you should come over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Yeah? What’re we having?”

“I don’t know yet but I’d like to cook for you.” 

John had a feeling that cooking was, for Flint, the first step in his old-fashioned manner of seduction, so he said, “I look forward to it, and will be more than happy to show you my gratitude in whatever way you deem appropriate.”

Flint huffed in amusement and wrapped his arms around John’s waist. John had to arch his back to make room for Flint’s arms to slide underneath him. “Very little about you is appropriate but, God help me, I’m into it.”

“Thank fucking God.” John kissed Flint’s hair again and tucked the stray ends behind his ear. “Or maybe I should thank Rus.”

“Christ.” Flint’s voice was thick with emotion, but he didn’t quite sound on the verge of crying, yet. “Thank Rus, who clearly didn’t want me to be left on my own.”

“I got you, sweetheart.”

“I know.”  Flint scooted up John’s body until his chin was resting atop John’s shoulder, and his nose was pressed to John’s neck. “Thank you.” 

He pressed his lips to the soft spot under John’s jaw, and John closed his eyes in bliss. What more could he possibly want but this?

 

~~

 

James was sweaty and flustered and certain he’d disappoint, but the look of hunger on Silver’s face gave him courage. “Here. Not my best, but passable.”

Dinner was finally on the table - a salad from the garden, gazpacho made from farmer’s market tomatoes and cucumbers, pan-seared whitefish with tarragon and dill butter, and the last of the season’s asparagus. The lettuce was a bit wilted in the heat, blending the gazpacho had made a horrible mess, the searing on the fish was dark enough to be near burnt, and the asparagus was possibly too woody to be any good. Nothing was  _ ruined,  _ per se, but neither was it as impressive as he’d hoped.

He’d possibly gone a little overboard with the candles and cloth napkins, but Silver was wearing a nice button down shirt and slacks, so he too had gone to some effort. 

He stepped up to James while he was setting the pan of fish on the table and kissed him on the temple, right at the corner of his eye, near the tip of his cheekbone. James could still feel the ghost of the pressure and heat after he pulled away smiling. 

“Looks amazing, James. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, though he’d actually been quite harried most of the day trying to bring off this somewhat ambitious feat. Silver’s appreciative smile was already reward enough, however. 

God, was he in trouble. 

This... whatever they were trying to do, was sure to blow up in their faces, but James wanted it more than he’d wanted most things. James had thought Silver was an utter darling for years and the fact that he was both interested in James and willing to be patient was more than he could have wished for. And if he’d learned anything in his life it was that there was no shame in trying, at least. Even if failure was inevitable, sometimes the attempt was worth it.

Much like the meal before them, which tasted quite good in the end.

Silver’s steady stream of conversation was sidetracked often by sincere, even flattering, compliments about the food, and he ate with a gusto James didn’t remember seeing before. It was startlingly gratifying to see him enjoy the meal so much and James couldn’t hide the hot flush of his cheeks every time Silver made a delighted noise with some bite of food in his mouth.

“It’s not five-star dining, John, nor is my ego so fragile that it needs this much stroking.” 

Looking up with a forkful of fish and asparagus halfway to his mouth, Silver flawlessly executed that endearing combination of a frown and a smirk. “I’d be happy to stroke your ego any time, but I just happen to be enjoying this meal immensely.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe it’s the—” James looked around the table and jumped to his feet. “Shit! I forgot the wine.”

“We don’t really need it—”

Already in the kitchen, James called back over his shoulder, “I chilled it in the  _ freezer  _ to save time.” 

Thankfully the cork hadn’t worked its way out fully, but the seal was broken and there was already a small frozen puddle on the floor of the freezer. The situation had been not far from disaster. 

As he brought the bottle back to the table, he said, “We were minutes away from white wine slushies.”

“On a day like today, that wouldn’t have been unwelcome.” Silver smiled up at James as his glass was filled and James wanted to kiss him right then and there. 

So he did.

“What was that for?” Silver asked with a confused smile once he’d opened his eyes again. 

“You can find the positive in anything. It’s a blessing, especially to the Eeyore in me.”

“You took time out of your day to cook me dinner. That’s already so amazing, I couldn’t imagine finding fault with any of it. But also you’re a fantastic cook — everything is delicious and prepared beautifully.”

“Thanks.” James retreated back to his seat, blushing fiercely. 

“I’m serious. My dad’s Spanish and this gazpacho?” He held up his bowl for emphasis. “He couldn’t have made better.”

James pressed his ice cold wineglass to his cheek and smiled fondly at his... his what? They hadn’t gotten to the point of being lovers but they weren’t merely friends, and James was entirely too old to have a  _ boyfriend _ for Christ’s sake. Was Silver his beau? His sweetheart? Certainly it was too soon for partner? 

Silver for his own part had fallen back in his chair with his hand to his heart, looking transported with delight. 

“What now?” James arched an amused eyebrow at him. “Is the wine also the best you’ve tasted?

“Your smile. Your real, no-holds-barred, full-on smile. It’s magnificent. No no no, do it again, please!”

“Not sure I should, actually, if it’s going to put you into cardiac arrest,” James said, his brow furrowed but his lips twitching merrily. 

“I promise to cling to life a bit longer. Once more, please? For me?” Silver clasped his hands in supplication as he spoke. 

James chuckled despite himself. “You are a ridiculous human. Why on earth do I like you so much?” 

“I haven’t the faintest idea but I’m the luckiest man in town, and those few who aren’t jealous are stupid.”

The smile was wiped from James’ face as he repeated, “Few?”

It was Silver’s turn to raise an amused eyebrow. “No one, I repeat,  _ no one, _ needs as much jam as Miss Guthrie buys from you. I have it on good authority that young Mr. Mandalay doesn’t even  _ like _ honey, and Jack Fucking Rackham would leave Anne Bonny in a heartbeat if you’d so much as  _ look  _ at him without scowling. Though of course Anne would gut him like a fish the moment he tried, so there’s that to cool his ardor a bit. Oh, and Charles Motherfucking Vane has started sniffing around  _ me _ lately, like a shark smelling blood in the water. I can’t tell which of us he’s most jealous of, honestly.”

James could do nothing but gawk at Silver for long enough to make him chuckle and shake his head. “Poor lonely Flint, ignoring the adoration of his fans to spend time with his tomcat, until the foolish but fond veterinarian managed to get past his defenses. Granted, though I’m inclined to believe I cheated a bit by catching you at a vulnerable moment, I clearly wasn’t above using it to my advantage.” 

That self-deprecating tone of voice brought a true scowl to James’ face. “I am so fucking grateful for you. For everything you’ve done for me this week. You’ve shown yourself to be a true friend. Which of those others you’ve mentioned has done a fraction as much?”

“Would you have let them?” Silver asked, sounding both accusatory and curious.

“No, honestly, but that’s because I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Maybe you would have been if they’d been there for you at the right moment.”

“Maybe I would have, if any of them were as fucking gorgeous as you, with a sense of fun that can always get around my grumpiness, who deeply cares about both creatures and people, and has the gentlest, most caring touch that couldn’t possibly make anyone shy away...” 

James trailed off because Silver had leapt from his chair and was trying to climb onto James’ with him. James grabbed onto Silver’s thighs to hold him in place straddling James’ lap, as he cupped James’ face in his hands and started kissing him. 

Gentle, sweet kisses all over his face, in a silly but truly fond way that had James both chuckling and blushing again. The last one landed on his nose and James reflexively scrunched it as Silver pulled away, his thumbs rubbing lightly over James’ beard. 

“God, I’m a lucky bastard. The fact that you haven’t kicked me out yet is truly incredible. I thought for sure you were gonna turn me away when I brought over Chinese and beer, and here you are, cooking for me  _ and  _ putting up with nose kisses.” 

“Hush. Luck has nothing to do with it. You sell yourself short. You’re lovely to be around.” John cheekily stole a kiss before James had finished speaking so he buried his fingers in John’s hair and added, “Though let’s be real, if you cut off these glorious curls you’ll have lost nearly half of your appeal.”

“Ouch.” Silver’s tone indicated he was reacting to the sting of James’ words, not the slow tug on the handfuls of hair he’d grabbed.

In fact, Silver’s reaction to James’ hands in his hair was very positive indeed. 

“If you promise to do this with some frequency I’ll never cut it again.”

James tightened his grip for a moment, unsure if it was the pain or the control that Silver responded to more. And though it was intriguing to watch Silver’s breath catch as he bared his throat, James wasn’t sure he trusted himself with that power yet, so he untangled his fingers slowly and kissed the pink apples of Silver’s cheeks, one after the other. 

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Right. No pressure.”

“Shall we finish dinner, then?”

Silver seemed to become aware for the first time how he was sitting on James and looked abashed. “Sorry, yeah. Whatever you want.” He shifted to get up but James suddenly didn’t want to lose this easy, comfortable closeness. He held onto Silver’s hip to keep him in place while leaning forward to reach his own plate.

“Hang on, don’t go anywhere. Here.” He held out a forkful of fish to Silver whose eyes went wide as his mouth opened to accept the gift. James held his own mouth open until Silver’s lips closed around the fork, then sighed along with Silver as he chewed the bite. 

When Silver swallowed, Adam’s apple dipping, James’ stomach fluttered. 

Well shit. He hadn’t felt  _ that _ in ages. Maybe this whole thing wouldn’t be as slow a process as he’d thought.

And then Silver reached back to the table and picked up James’ soup, tipping it up to his lips and drinking the last of it straight from the bowl. When he set it down again there was a thin line of gazpacho clinging to his mustache, and James involuntarily wet his own lips as Silver licked it off. 

“Christ, John...”

Silver must have heard the want in James’ voice because he pressed close until their foreheads met, then breathed, “Please can I...”

James could only nod.

This time, what Silver gave him wasn’t a sweet, gentle kiss. It was untamed and passionate, and nearly bowled James over. Once he caught up with the enthusiasm, James revelled in the way Silver engulfed him. Dark hair and strong hands framed his face as Silver’s tongue swept in and out of his mouth. The musky salt of his skin, the tang of gazpacho on his breath, the heat of him. The heat. 

Want bubbled up inside James like it hadn’t in years, spreading from the pit of his stomach through his torso and tingling through every limb. He clutched at Silver’s waist as parts of him that had slept for ages awoke and made their hunger known. 

Silver’s tempest of feeling slowed and seemed to calm somewhat, but it left James trembling. Pulling back, Silver hoarsely whispered, “All right? I can stop, if you need to.” He smoothed stray strands of James’ hair off his face and looked searchingly into his eyes. “Sorry, I just—”

“Yeah.” James swallowed and tried to catch his breath. “No sorries. C’mere.” 

He pulled Silver closer, his hands sliding from Silver’s waist over his hips to clutch his ass. Silver moaned into his mouth as James kissed him deeply, holding their bodies flush against one another, attempting to express his desire as clearly as possible. 

Silver got the hint.

“Bed? Or couch, at least?”

James just nodded again, and then lifted Silver up as he stood from his chair. Silver gasped and wrapped his legs around James’ waist, baring his throat for James to suck on as he headed for the daybed in the next room. 

They flopped onto the mattress ungracefully and Silver laughed as James’ head bumped into his shoulder. “Convenient, this thing is.” He grinned up at James, whose fingers were working open the buttons on his nice shirt to expose his beautiful chest. “Tell me you wanted to ravish me right here the night I slept over.” 

“I mostly wanted you to cuddle the shit out of me, honestly, but I fell asleep to the thought of burying my face in the curls at your neck.” James matched the action to his words and nipped at the tender skin, noticing that it seemed to mark easily. 

“Oh. Yes. Though I’ll admit I had much less pure thoughts as I drifted off.” Silver slid his hands up the back of James’ shirt and pressed him close, clearly unsatisfied until their chests were touching and most of James’ weight was upon him. 

“Do tell,” James murmured as he took Silver’s earlobe between his teeth. 

“Fuck. It was close enough to this. I’m not trying to get you to—”

“I just wanna know what you like.”

“I like a lot of things, this was just one dumb fantasy...”

“Please?” James canted his hips forward, giving Silver just enough drag against the front of his pants to make him moan. 

“Unfair. Jesus. Keep that up and I’ll tell you.” 

James did him one better and slid his hand down Silver’s sculpted hip to cup him and squeeze gently. 

“Oh God. Oh fuck. Please, James.”

“Go on...” He shifted his weight so he could rub against Silver better, tracing the outline of him, hard in his pants.

“It was just - oh, oh yes - you climbed into bed with me and spooned up against my back and then - ah fuck - took me from behind.” Silver’s nails dug into James’ back as he moved his hips looking for more friction. “But in the morning, when you were asleep in that chair, I imagined you waking up and climbing on top of me like this and riding me, so...”

James lost his breath for a moment. The idea of that gave him pause. He must have stopped moving his hand too because Silver slid his hands out of James’ shirt and cupped his face, saying, “I’m not asking for that. Please, baby, don’t—” 

“It’s been a long time. I don’t think—” 

“It’s fine, I promise. Just a silly fantasy. We could literally never do that and I’d still be so fucking happy to date you. We could stop right now and I’d lie here thinking how elated I am to be your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Too soon? I guess if you’re only counting this as our first date, then maybe—”

“John, it’s fine. I was just thinking I was too old for that word.”

“My ex’s grandmother had a boyfriend at age 83. I’m pretty sure it just gets cuter as a person ages.” Silver kissed James’ neck while he snorted dismissively at the idea of ever being considered cute. “Though if you don’t want me to use that term for you, that’s fine, too.”

James pressed the side of his mouth to the side of Silver’s head and said, “I’d prefer ‘lover’ but we have yet to do that part. Too much talking, honestly.”

“I can also shut the fuck up whenever, I’m good at that too—”

“Shut the fuck up, Silver,” James growled into Silver’s ear, and smiled as he heard the tiny pop of Silver’s mouth closing abruptly. “I was trying earlier to say I think we’ll have to work up to certain things, since my body’s not used to having a lover, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want them at some point.”

“Good to know,” Silver breathed, as if trying to still be silent but just being damned bad at it. James smiled against Silver’s hair and said nothing.

The next time Silver made noise it was because James had started moving his hand in the particular way he’d found to make Silver moan, and it was a truly welcome sound. 


	4. Potential Energy Becomes Kinetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wanna make you feel good, babe. That’s all I want.”  
> James huffed softly and John couldn’t help defending his word choice. “You’re such a babe, it’s the right term for you, I swear.”  
> “Oh, that’s fine. I don’t mind. I just... I don’t even know what to tell you to do to make me feel good. I haven’t...”  
> “Tell me you’ve masturbated since your ex left you.”  
> “Well, yeah, that was ten years ago, but not with any...”  
> “Toys?” John needed to stop trying to read James’ mind. He kept putting his foot in his mouth if James’ amused noises were anything to go by. “Or did you mean you weren’t really putting your heart into it?”  
> “Yeah, that.” James said, his voice too fond to be totally deadpan. It sounded like a truth he didn’t want to admit sincerely.  
> “Got it.” He kissed the tip of James’ bearded chin and softly asked, “Is it all right if I take my time getting to know you, then?”  
> Another amused huff. “By ‘you’ I assume you mean my cock?”  
> “Not at first, but at some point, yes. Will that be okay?”  
> “Obviously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Content! Also much less SFW content! Enjoy!

James Flint was either very humble or _very_ good at setting up low expectations in order to exceed them tremendously.

In other words, he was a stellar lover and his mouth was a fucking revelation.

The man acted like it had been so long he couldn’t even remember what two people did in bed, but within two minutes he’d figured out exactly how to touch John’s cock in all the right ways, and his tongue had no problem doing truly exquisite things, and, well, he seemed to just naturally have no gag reflex...

To put it plainly, John was very quickly completely undone.

He felt like a school kid again, being brought off in minutes, but the smug little smile on James’ face as he crawled back up John’s body was worth the momentary embarrassment of shooting down his throat with almost no warning.

John pulled him close to lick at his mouth and James chuckled low and wicked as John tasted himself on James’ tongue.

“I’d forgotten how much I love that,” he whispered against John’s lips. “You feel like fucking gold in my mouth.”

“You’re welcome to do that any time. Fuck, you’re _so good_ at it.”

James smiled, wolfish, his lips and the tip of his tongue still pressed lightly to John’s lips. “Good. I’m already developing a taste for it again. Might need you once more before bed, honestly.”

John couldn’t help moaning softly at the thought.

“Is there something I can do for you in the meantime?”

It was disconcerting to feel the exact moment his lover froze, muscles locking up under his hands, breath going silent, heart loud.

“We don’t have to do anything, really. Whatever you want—”

“Is there something you want to do?” James’ words had no breath support, as if he wasn’t even sure he should be asking, as if he felt at sea with the entire prospect of having anything done to him. John’s heart clenched.

“I wanna make you feel good, babe. That’s all I want.”

James huffed softly and John couldn’t help defending his word choice. “You’re _such_ a babe, it’s the right term for you, I swear.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t mind. I just... I don’t even know what to tell you to do to make me feel good. I haven’t...”

“Tell me you’ve masturbated since your ex left you.”

“Well, _yeah,_ that was ten years ago, but not with any...”

“Toys?” John needed to stop trying to read James’ mind. He kept putting his foot in his mouth if James’ amused noises were anything to go by. “Or did you mean you weren’t really putting your heart into it?”

“Yeah, that.” James said, his voice too fond to be totally deadpan. It sounded like a truth he didn’t want to admit sincerely.

“Got it.” He kissed the tip of James’ bearded chin and softly asked, “Is it all right if I take my time getting to know you, then?”

Another amused huff. “By ‘you’ I assume you mean my cock?”

“Not at first, but at some point, yes. Will that be okay?”

“Obviously.”

It wasn’t obvious, but John was glad to hear James was into the idea at least. They would see how the reality went. “Fantastic. Do you wanna lie down while I acquaint myself?”

James’ wicked smile was gorgeous and damned alluring, but John didn’t take it as an invitation just yet. He let James roll them both over until John was on lying on top, then stilled James’ hands when they went straight to unbuttoning his jeans. “Let me? You can slow me down or stop this whenever you want, you know.”

“Again, _obviously._ Come on, John.”

“Patience, my sweet.” John let his hands drag down James’ torso to the hem of his t-shirt. He tugged it just enough to get James’ attention and said, “Can this come off?”

Another breathless pause, but John was expecting this one. It hadn’t escaped his notice that James hadn’t taken his shirt off at the beach yesterday.

Finally, James inhaled and nodded his head, lips tight.

“Are you sure? It can stay...”

James rolled his eyes and started tugging the shirt off himself. John helped, though he was probably more of a hindrance, and with his weight on James making it harder, they had to struggle quite a bit to get it off. By the time James’ head reappeared from the fabric they were both laughing, which John hadn’t exactly planned, but decided was the best outcome to break the tension.

But there was nothing to laugh at under that shirt, and John was struck dumb with awe at James’ shoulders, especially.

Not only were they thick with muscle and strong, including defined pecs and the hint of collarbone, but they were creamy white with a beautiful, heavy dusting of copper freckles all over the tops of them. John ran his fingertips lightly over the freckles, then down James’ arm. When those fingers traveled over the stark line of his farmer’s tan from white to pink, James shivered in response.

Looking up at James’ face was more shocking than anything though, because he seemed genuinely surprised by John’s reaction to seeing him shirtless. His brow was furrowed and his eyes held confusion. His lips were still tight as if he was afraid of them quivering.

“But you’re so beautiful,” John said without thinking. He cupped James’ jaw and rubbed the cheekbone under his thumb. “Christ, James. Don’t you know that?”

James turned his face into John’s palm and kissed it with something that felt like gratitude. John took a deep breath, then realized saying anything more wouldn’t help get his point across.

And so he kissed James’ forehead, then moved back down to caress and kiss every part of his torso, from shoulder tip to sternum, and collarbone to hipbone. He paid close attention to the neck and nipples, and gave just as much love to the pooch of James’ belly and love handles as he did the solidity of his biceps and triceps.

When he was nosing and kissing around James’ belly button, and especially when he moved to nip at the rounded bit flesh above his hip, James’ soft noises changed from delighted and aroused to something approaching distressed. John took hold of James’ hands, which had landed on his shoulders like he wanted to push John away, and looked up into James’ eyes. “Do you not want me touching you here? I love this bit of you, and I want to give it the attention it deserves, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t.”

“No, I...” James pulled his hands slowly away and let them rest up on the mattress by his head. The fingers of one hand rested over his eye as if by accident, but it looked to John like James would have hid his whole face if he could have without drawing attention. “I’m not used to this.”

Resting his head on James’ hip, John asked, “Which part?”

James’ laugh was amusement, disbelief, and overwhelm combined. “All of it?”

John just looked at him.

“John, I’m approaching fifty. I haven’t done this in ten years. You’re in your prime, a fucking Adonis, and here I’m...” He reached for the thickness around his middle but John caught his hand and kissed the palm.

“You’re gorgeous. Jesus. Look at you.”

The blush wasn’t only coloring James’ cheeks, but had been splashed down his neck to his chest as well. Strawberries and cream came to mind as John crawled up to sit on James’ hips and brushed his fingers over the hollow of James’ throat.

James swallowed and John’s stomach flipped. He had no idea how to get this right but he was going to try. “I want you. As you are. I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit. If I wanted to lick Charles Vane’s washboard abs, I could do it tomorrow, but at what cost? He’s dumb as a brick, mean as a hornet, and thinks that male posturing is a form of flirtation.”

John laughed in relief when James chuckled. “I’ve been imagining this moment all week and it’s even more amazing than I thought, and if you ruin it by insulting this beautiful fucking body attached to this beautiful fucking mind, and this big beautiful heart, I’m gonna be fucking pissed.” He pressed his lips to James’ forehead and chest, then moved in for a kiss but stopped a hair short and let James decide if he wanted to close the gap between their mouths.

He did. Briefly.

Then he said, “You’ve already licked Vane’s abs, haven’t you?”

Nothing got past this man. John was both thankful for it and nervous as hell that he was in over his head. He shrugged. “Not all it’s cracked up to be. Thinks he’s a good dom because he knows how to take people apart. Forgets that thing where he’s got to be willing to put them back together again, too.”

James’ brow was deeply furrowed. “You let him hurt you?”

Another shrug. “It’s fun sometimes, when done right. He’s doing it wrong.”

Every muscle in James’ body tensed and his eyes flashed fire, and for a second John thought he was going to push John off of him and get up to beat Charles’ ass right then.

“Baby, please don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“And Anne? Does she let—”

“No. I promise. Jack’s the fool who goes for that, not Anne. But Charles knows Anne would flay him alive if he wasn’t careful with Jack, so I honestly think that dynamic is all right.”

“You promise.”

“I do.”

James relaxed and John sighed in relief. How the fuck had he let this go so far off the rails?

He took a deep breath. “Okay, hang on. I’m sorry. This was about you and how fucking hot you are. And how fucking lucky I am to be here right now with you. Please, James, let me continue?”

Strong hands swept up John’s back and pulled him by his shoulders down for another, lingering kiss. “All right, but I want you to know that I will never hurt you just for the sake of hurting you."

“Even if I asked you to?”

“But then it’d be for the sake of giving you pleasure, wouldn’t it? And that I _would_ do, if you wanted it.”

“Would it give _you_ pleasure, do you think?”

“If I knew that you were enjoying it, yes.”

That was enough. John put that aside for a later date and kissed James before mouthing his way down his torso once again, taking his time and enjoying it, trying not to tickle while nibbling on James’ love handles, sighing in bliss.

When he finally got to where the jeans were in the way, he glanced up and saw James’ hungry eyes riveted to his face. “All right, babe?” he asked, breathless at the need building up inside him, clearly reflected in James’ expression.

James just nodded once, slowly.

John swallowed and then undid James’ jeans, smiling as James’ hips came up immediately to help him slide them off his ass. He didn’t rush and took them completely off, tossing them to the floor before directing his attention to the next revelation he’d been looking forward to for a long time: James’ thighs.

They were beautiful. Creamy and freckled and God, so thick. John wanted to bury himself in them. He started with kissing and running his lips and tongue up them, from knee to pelvis and back, revelling in the combined enjoyment and frustration in James’ noises.

“Mmph. Tickles. Why are you down there,” he mumbled, hands groping for John’s shoulders and trying to tug him up to the desired spot.

“Because you could crush my head with these things and I feel the need to give them the respect they’re due.”

James grunted. “Well hurry up. I’m too old for this nonsense.”

John stopped and looked up at James, one eyebrow cocked rakishly. “My dear sir, if I remember rightly, _you_ were the one who wanted to go at a glacial pace. What, _pray tell,_ do you have to complain about?”

“You know damned well what,” James said with a resigned smirk as he spread his legs, showing the tenting of his boxers. “But I recant my statement. If I can’t get it up later when you want it, you’ll know who to blame.”

“Why blame anyone when there's still so much to explore?” John slid his hand along the inside of James’ thigh, up into the leg of his boxers, and brushed a finger between his ass cheeks. The moan that followed brought a smug smirk to his lips.

“Does that mean you’d rather roll over?”

“Mmph.” James’ face was hidden in the crook of his elbow. “Maybe after you’re done with this side...”

John took the hint and pressed his face to the bulge in James’ boxers, supremely glad to finally get to know James’ cock by smell, feel, look, and taste.

By the noises James made - and the mess, later - he too seemed more than happy for the acquaintance.

  


~~

  


“James.”

“Mmmph. Yes, dear.”

James was drifting in that place just above waking, in a cloud of comforter and soft morning light, with the heat of John’s chest against his back, and was the most contented he’d been in a very long time. They’d woken earlier and fucked slowly but hard, and now the ache had dulled and the sweat had cooled on his skin while they’d slept again for an hour-ish. He did not want to be awake, but he would revel in the feeling of being curled up in bed with his lover every chance he got.

He turned onto his back, still fitting into the negative space of John’s body, but three-dimensionally now, his legs hooked over John’s thighs like links in a chain. John wrapped his arm tighter around James’ middle, his nose buried in the hair at James’ temple, and breathed him in before speaking again.

“That thing you did last night, where you held me down by the wrists...”

The image of John’s ecstatic face on the pillow as James fucked him open rose to his mind’s eye and colored the morning in the red heat of that moment. The hot ball of arousal blooming in his gut caused him to open his eyes and look at John.

The whole world was suddenly blue and clear and... vulnerable. James blinked and tried to read the expression in those beautiful eyes as he slid his hand along John’s upper arm to hold him closer.

“Yes, dear?”

“Would you consider tying me down next time? And maybe...” John closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to James’ eyebrow before continuing. “Letting it hurt a little more?”

James wasn’t sure he was awake enough for this conversation. Though maybe it was better to not be too awake so he wouldn’t overthink this too much. Feeling the hesitancy in John’s voice, but also his affection in how close they both held each other, helped James find a way through this.

He dragged his nails slowly down John’s arm and made a low humming noise, not far from a growl, or maybe a purr. John stilled completely, even holding his breath, and shivered.

“What sort of hurt, exactly? Less prep and less lube, or more roughness and manhandling?”

“Oh.” It was a soft breath of air against James’ ear and he smiled, eyes closed, at John’s surprise. “Both...?”

“How about either, to start.”

John pressed even closer, planting a kiss on the hinge of James’ jaw. “Whatever you want. I don't want you to feel like you have—”

“I don't.” James held John as tightly to him as he could with only one hand. “I'm just slow.”

A huff of hot air burst across James’ neck. “Slow like fucking for three hours that first night?”

“Well, we each averaged only one orgasm every hour...”

“Only because you're a fucking power bottom and also like to torment me with your fucking tongue until I weep.”

“I like to take my time and savor you, is that so wrong?” James turned further toward John and wormed a hand underneath his torso to wrap both arms around him. If he could tangle their limbs even more thoroughly, he would.

“Wrong, no. Painful, yes.”

“You like pain.”

“...Yes.”

“You just also like whining...” James nibbled on John’s earlobe, alternating soft lips and sharp teeth.

John keened quietly, voice still hoarse from sleep. “Maybe...”

James bit John’s jaw hard enough to draw a whine out of him, then dragged his teeth down John’s neck, scratching over last night’s bruises.

“Fuck. Jamie...”

“That was my plan... How do you want it?”

“Raw. Make it hurt.”

Rolling over until he was on top of John, pinning his wrists to the mattress near his head, James kissed him so very tenderly - slow and gentle and full of affection - until he was sighing into James’ mouth.

Then, in one swift motion, he bit down hard on John’s neck and pushed John’s legs apart with his own before rutting, thick and heavy, along the cleft of John’s ass. The moan that followed was more wanton and broken than James had yet heard. A shiver of white-hot lust ran through him at the sound.

It would not be a hardship to give John what he wanted, that was clear as a bell.

Within a minute he was pushing deep inside, and John, tears in his eyes, was gasping his thanks.

James was so grateful for this - all of it, not just the tight heat and desperate breaths, but the act of surrender, the trust, the abandon. John’s certainty that James would give him what he needed because he cared, and when it was over he would still be there, still caring for him.

James had never been one to need this sort of dynamic, but with John, like this, he saw the appeal. When they finished, James gathered John up in his arms and kissed his hair, so fucking grateful for this beautiful man in his life.


	5. Can't Make Jam Without Crushing Some Berries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you leave any berries for later, darling?” James teased over his shoulder.  
> “I thought you said all of these needed to be eaten right away? Why would I wait?” He sounded so sincere James very nearly believed he was serious.  
> “Because eating your weight in blackberries is not good for you.”  
> “Says you!” John winked as he tossed yet another berry into his mouth. Not only his tongue, but his teeth were stained purple and James couldn’t help but laugh.  
> “All right, enough. I need help with jam berries. Start filling that basket for god’s sake.”  
> “Why can’t we use the sweetest ones for jam?” John queried while he continued to pick.  
> “We can, but I’d rather just fucking eat them. On everything, for the next three days.”  
> “Uhhhh, there aren’t enough for three days of eating.”  
> “Not at the rate you inhale them, no. But we won’t be able to pick this patch clean today, so hopefully by the end of the week there will be more.”  
> “Thank God. Am I invited back then to help?”  
> “If you ever actually pick some berries you don’t eat.”  
> “Hey! I’ve got plenty here in my basket! A good ten whole blackberries!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was delayed, but it's long and there were some last minute edits and this weekend the show I'm stage managing opened so I've been a Bit Busy. Enjoy the feels!

It was a gorgeous day. The bees hung lazily on the blossoms, the sun played hide and seek with dewdrops on the leaves, everything smelled like growth and green, and the ripeness of the blackberries was palpable, even from ten feet away. It made James’ mouth water just looking at them.

He knew it was early, but a text invite could be ignored until John was fully awake, and there would still be plenty to do whenever he arrived.

James took out his phone and typed:  _ Today’s the day. Come scratch up your arms and purple your tongue. _ Then he sent it to the number filed under ‘Silver Fox’ in his contacts.  _ Someone  _ had gotten into his phone and changed their name, the self-aggrandizing little shit. 

At least he was James’ little shit. And a fucking adorable one at that. 

James adored. It was true. And at his age, he’d lost any of the self-consciousness he might have had about that in his younger years, which meant his lover knew it, even if James didn’t really say as much out loud. 

Being with John was probably going to end in disaster, or at least tears, because there was no way someone like John Fucking Silver, most desirable man in town, wanted to be with someone like James long-term, but James was going to take advantage of every single moment while it lasted, and today that hopefully meant getting to taste blackberry jam on his young lover's tongue. 

In the meantime, he’d get some work done. 

The blackberry bushes were all along the back of the garden - a large, dense wall of brambles. James had figured out a few years ago that when pruning them back in the spring it helped to add deep cuts into the bushes every four feet so that he could reach more of the berries without dying by a thousand tiny scratches. They still grew so fast that there were always a few spiky tendrils that reached across the alleys, catching at clothes and hair and skin, but at least he didn’t have to press his whole body up against the bushes to reach the furthest fruits. 

The problem he hadn’t been able to solve was the fact that he couldn’t wear gloves while picking. The berries were too delicate to pick without being able to feel them. To do it right he just sort of just touched with his fingertips the top of the berry from below and let it fall into his cupped palm. If they were ripe they’d come off the vine that easily. If they were  _ super _ ripe they would sploosh between your fingers if you touched them any other way. Those were the ones that were for snacking on right away, not for jam. 

And by right away he meant right there in the bramble patch, the smell of the dry grass of high summer in his nostrils, the golden air abuzz with bees, and the sweet tang of sun-warmed berries filling his mouth. He picked and ate at least twelve of them - mashing each against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, letting the juice trickle down his throat while grinding the seeds between his molars - before he started filling his berry basket. 

As he worked he'd start narrating what he was doing and then catch himself, remembering there was no one to comment about the process to. Each time a pang clutched his heart and he had to catch his breath. Mornings like this had been Rus’ favorite and he’d kept himself busy stalking through the grass, chasing insects, and lolling in sunbeams while watching James. It had always felt like they were in this together - this life James had built that had kept the boredom and loneliness at bay. And now... James had no idea if he was building a new life or just a rickety shelter from the storm of grief that threatened to wash him away.

At least he still had the work - something to occupy his hands and mind enough to tire him by evening. 

He’d picked all the best overripe berries in about half of the bramble patch before the sun had risen over the house, which meant it was about 10am this time of year. He’d filled his basket twice and was contemplating whether to start picking for jam when he heard a distant halloo coming from the side of the house. 

John came into view moments later, and James met him with a big ripe berry held out at face-height. John opened his mouth to receive the gift before kissing James hello and the delighted hum which accompanied that sweet press of lips warmed James more than the sun. 

“Good morning to you, too,” John said in his lowest voice, the one that still had the scratch of sleepiness in it. “I see you’ve gotten a head start.”

“The day begins early in this house.” James held out his basket for John to fish out a few more berries. John popped three in his mouth, the remainder leaving little purple berryprints on his palm, as James continued. “It’ll soon be too warm for a jacket, darling.”

“Ah, you are not wrong. But this jacket is denim, and if I do this...” He stuffed the rest of the berries in his mouth then slipped the jacket off his shoulders and put his arms in the wrong sleeves so he was wearing it back-to-front. “Then it’s bramble protection.”

James raised his eyebrows in silent approval and beckoned John over to the wall of scratchy bushes. “Have you done this before?” 

“Only casually while walking down the street. It’s hard to pass up free blackberries when they’re ripe and just sitting there for you to pick and eat.” 

Nodding, James said, “So you know how to spot the ripest ones?”

“It always seems like the ones with a duller sheen are the sweetest, as long as they haven’t gotten wrinkly.”

“Right.” James pointed at him. “The shiny ones are still a bit tart, but as long as they’re midnight purple and come off the vine with only a touch, they’re ripe. That matte finish means they should be eaten about... five minutes ago. Why don’t you pick the overripe ones over there while I get started on the tart ones for jam?”

“As long as I still get to eat my fill...” James just grunted in assent as John picked up an extra basket and started in. For a few minutes the only noises were his little sounds of enjoyment when he popped a berry into his mouth and the ones of distress when a thorny bramble caught at him. 

The dull ache that had weighed James down all morning finally eased up, though a tear wet the corner of his eye at its loss. Grief was an odd thing and though it took many forms there was never really a break from it. 

But John, as he woke up more, proved to be in an unsinkably good mood, which spread as far and wide as the sun’s warmth. 

“Did you leave any berries for later, darling?” James teased over his shoulder.

“I thought you said all of these needed to be eaten right away? Why would I wait?” He sounded so sincere James very nearly believed he was serious.

“Because eating your weight in blackberries is not good for you.”

“Says you!” John winked as he tossed yet another berry into his mouth. Not only his tongue, but his teeth were stained purple and James couldn’t help but laugh.

“All right, enough. I need help with jam berries. Start filling that basket for god’s sake.”

“Why can’t we use the sweetest ones for jam?” John queried while he continued to pick.

“We can, but I’d rather just fucking eat them. On everything, for the next three days.”

“Uhhhh, there aren’t enough for three days of eating.”

“Not at the rate you inhale them, no. But we won’t be able to pick this patch clean today, so hopefully by the end of the week there will be more.”

“Thank God. Am I invited back then to help?”   


“If you ever actually pick some berries you don’t eat.”

“Hey! I’ve got plenty here in my basket! A good ten whole blackberries!” 

John tipped his basket just enough so James could see it was over half-full and winked. James wanted to kiss his handsome, too-charming, smug-as-fuck face, but the amount of brambles in between them prohibited it. So he slyly winked back. John seemed to flush at that, though it could have been due to wearing denim as the sun climbed the sky. 

When John finished filling his basket a few minutes later, James praised him as he handed off an empty one. “We’ll get done picking before noon at this rate. And maybe with your help in the kitchen, we can finish canning before nightfall. I’ve never gotten the whole first harvest in jars in one day before.”

“Just goes to show what you can do when you’ve got an ace assistant.”

James swallowed and refused to think about Rus. “I never thought I needed one that actually made the workload lighter. And I honestly didn’t ask you over for that reason. I just thought you’d enjoy the experience and it’s more fun to share it with someone.” 

“I’m glad you’re willing to share it with me. I know I’m not the preferred option...”

The dull ache of the morning was now back in full force, the heavy weight on his chest making it hard to breathe. James shook his head. 

“You are now. Don’t belittle...” He couldn’t continue due to something in his throat, and John moved so quickly through the briars that it must have hurt in order to hug him.

“No, I won’t. I’m sorry.”

When James could breathe normally again, he pulled away from John and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” The worry lines on John’s forehead were deep as he looked at James. 

He nodded. John cupped his jaw with those big hands, now stained lilac, and kissed his forehead. James tried hard not to lean into the touch. They had too much work to do for James to get sidetracked by John’s physical presence this early. 

They went back to picking and James suspected John worked harder to keep the tone of their conversation light than he did at picking berries. Not that James wasn’t grateful for, well, all of it.

Grateful and so fucking lucky.   
  


~~ 

 

Just as the heat of the day reached its peak, James declared they’d picked enough and they retreated inside to begin jam making. John didn’t mention how much he was looking forward to the coolness inside but he did shuck his jacket off immediately. He couldn’t help noticing the way James looked at his chest in his form-fitting v-neck t-shirt, and a little thrill of delight skittered up his spine. That _was_ the reason he'd worn it after all.

God, he was always so hungry for James. John loved when they just spent time together and did activities like this, but he had to admit that he was looking forward to later when hopefully they could spend some time naked in bed together, too. 

Until then, he was happy to help in the kitchen, getting a front row seat to James’ process of making jam. He readily rinsed and drained the berries while James sterilized the jam jars in boiling water. When they were ready to start cooking down the berries, John dumped them all into James’ biggest stockpot. 

“No, honey. You have to make it in batches or it won’t set.”

James measured out 6 cups into a saucepan and John stared in disbelief at how many berries were left over. “We’re going to have to do this three more times?” 

“It doesn’t take very long for the batches with seeds. Straining the seedless batches takes a while.  _ And _ waiting for the filled jars to cool takes about a day.”

“Wait, we can’t eat any of it today?” John pouted in that way that made it impossible for James to resist kissing him. He milked that kiss for all it was worth, too, pushing his luck just a bit by ending it on a little bite and tug on James’ lower lip.

“Mmm. Of course we can. We don’t have to seal  _ all _ of it into jars.” James’ eyes were more fond than feral and John resigned himself to waiting for more until they’d gotten at least halfway through the day’s work. He could be patient. He  _ could. _

Especially if he got to eat blackberry jam while he waited. “Well good, because I brought a loaf of Max’s bread to spread it on.”

“Did you have to buy it this time, or...” James’ smirk was delectable as always, but this one made John ruffle his feathers, mostly in a performative way, but still.

“I don’t know  _ what _ you mean,” he huffed, innocent as you please.

“She only makes you pay for it when she knows I’m watching, doesn’t she?”

“It’s not a _ thing, _ we just... she likes to treat me. I... I’ve been good to her. And her pitbull.”

“So she’s not trying to woo you away from me?” James’ voice was teasing and fond, but he’d turned to the stove and was stirring the berries so John couldn’t see his face. 

“There is no ‘try’ with her. She gets what she wants.” John stepped up behind James and snaked his arms around his lover’s waist, pressing his forehead to James’ shoulder. “But she wouldn’t. She knows I’m really happy to be with you. And also that it’s not a zero sum game.” 

The pause after he spoke felt heavy, so he added. “Unless you want it to be?”

“I don’t...” James squeezed John’s hand on his tum and then pulled it away so he could move to check on the jars - unnecessarily, it seemed to John. James leaned against the counter next to the stove and didn’t make eye contact. “If you want to be with other people, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

John sighed and leaned his hip on the counter at the other side of the stove, the steam from the boiling pots beginning to curl his hair into tight ringlets. “I didn’t say I wanted that. I’m asking what  _ you _ want.” 

James crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the floor. When he raised just his eyes to John, his forehead was a mass of wrinkles. He said simply, “You.”

“Darling, you have me. I’m here. I’m in it. But if we want to make an allowance for the possibility of someone else, for either of us, I’m okay with—”

“Let’s not talk about this yet.”

“Babe, you’ve done this before. Why are you—”

“I fell in love with two people at once. A couple. That’s much different.”

“Hey, okay. But FYI, I don’t need to fuck Max. She’s fucking great, and yes we used to mess around, but she’s happy with Anne and I’m a little focused on someone else. This really great guy who’s absolutely gorgeous and amazing and so fucking good in bed...” 

John had slowly moved closer to James as he was speaking and just got to the point of touching his waist and leaning in for a kiss when James said, “You’re not that smooth, you know. God help but me you’re pretty, though.”

Paused a hair's breadth from James’ ear, John whispered, “Does that mean you wanna kiss me?” 

James huffed, then uncrossed his arms to slide them over John’s shoulders. “Maybe...”

“What about fucking me later?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do. I want you ready to wreck me when we’re done here.”

James chuckled, his voice low with an edge of darkness. Just like John loved best. “We’ll see.” James kissed John sweetly on the lips, but just when John moved to deepen the kiss, James backed off and said, “But first, jam.”

“Yes sir,” John grumped, though almost immediately he found himself both amused and delighted by James’ enthusiasm over the jam-making process. 

John was not a cook. He would never claim to know his way around a kitchen, even his own. But he was more than happy to spend hours in James’ kitchen, watching and helping (but mostly watching) his lover boil and stir and test and taste and pour and measure and mutter to himself about getting things just right. His quiet confidence and casual grace in moving around the space, using the exact utensils and ingredients he needed was actually beautiful, and John had to work hard not to let his increasing fondness spill out of his mouth and smear all over his face as he ‘helped’ by telling stories of funny animal encounters he’s had and sneaking too many berries into his mouth - and James’ when he’d let him.

They got through two batches of jam before they stopped to eat some, slathered thickly over well-buttered bread. John was too blissed out by the taste riot in his mouth to notice James’ agitation until he bumped the knife off the top of the tub of butter and swore violently as it clattered to the table.

“What’s the matter, babe?”

“This is going to take another few hours and it’s already late afternoon.”

“And? Do we have anything else to do today?”

“Don’t you?” 

“My To Do list consists of this and you. Nothing else.”

James scrunched his nose, which usually meant he didn’t want to admit he enjoyed something. “But it’s been six Sundays in a row that you’ve spent nearly the whole day with me.”

“And the whole night, too. So what?”

“So...” James got up and moved to the stove, where there was absolutely nothing to do at the moment, and leaned against the counter. “I’m monopolizing your time. It feels selfish.” 

“You haven’t forced me to spend time with you, babe. I’m here because I want to be.”

“You’re here because I asked you weeks ago at an emotionally unstable time, and you couldn’t say no.”

“I don’t  _ want  _ to say no. What is this?”

James shrugged and wouldn’t look over at John. “Maybe we should spend less time together, is all.”

John lost his breath. This felt wrong. Not because he didn’t want it, but because James had never talked like this. They’d given each other time and space when they needed it, they weren’t living in each other’s pockets or anything, so this felt unnecessary. He had no breath support to ask, “Do you actually want that?” 

James nodded but didn’t look up from the counter.

Where was this coming from? John wanted to get up and go to James, but he had a feeling this was the wrong moment. James’ arms over his own chest looked like they were holding him together, not blocking John out. “Are you saying this because you think that I want the company of someone else? Or, oh...”  _ Shit. _ “Are  _ you _ wanting to diversify who you...?”

An impatient huff came just before James’ gaze lifted to hit John squarely in the face. “I just said earlier that you’re all I want.”

He hadn’t, not quite, and in the end John wouldn’t have minded, but a small selfish part of him was relieved to hear those words. “Then why push me away?”

James heaved a huge sigh and scuffed the floor with the toe of his boot before saying, “I... don’t want you to leave tonight.” He held up his hand when John tried to protest that he also didn’t want that. “But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m simply taking advantage of your kindness and generosity in order to curb my loneliness.”

Oh. John could have wept. “I don’t feel that. I’m here of my own accord because I  _ like  _ being with you. Don’t you like being with me too?” 

James made a noise that might have wanted to sound noncommittal, but ended up a little broken. 

John couldn’t hold back anymore and went to him, brushing his hands up and down James’ upper arms. James bent his head and John pressed their foreheads together. “Look. If I hadn’t been available today, what would you have done?”

James shifted back against the counter and pulled John’s hips against his own, causing John to give him most of his weight. It felt shockingly good to be held like that, his body pressed to and supported by his lover’s. James said, “I would have done the work by myself and been quietly miserable.”

“Because you miss Rus and wouldn’t want to be alone?”

“Yes. It’s hard without him. Each part of the season that comes, each new harvest, makes me miss him terribly.” He swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing. “And you ease the pain of missing him. And I’m so grateful for that - it’s such a gift. But it doesn’t seem fair.”

“Grief isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. If I can give you that gift, why reject it?”

James buried his face in John’s shoulder. “It’s not your job to fill my days now that he’s gone.”

John’s hands found the back of James’ neck, fingers sinking into the blunt-cut hair there. “No, it’s not my job. It’s what I do in my free time because I enjoy it - enjoy  _ you _ \- so much.”

“And I enjoy you. When I’m working alone I try to remember the things about my day that you’d find interesting so I can tell you about them later. Remember that story about the bees dancing I told you? The whole time it was happening I was wishing you were there to see it. To share it with me.”

The phrase  _ heart full to bursting _ had always sounded so saccharine and trite to John, until he felt it happen to him. All he could do was nod and press his lips to James’ shoulder.

“I can’t say I wouldn’t give you up to have Rus back, but I’m so glad you’re in my life, John.”

John let out a soft laugh, trying to hold back tears. “Me too, James.” 

James tightened his arms around John’s waist, holding him impossibly close. It felt unreasonably good, and John immediately wrapped his arms around James’ shoulders just as tight. They stayed like that for a while, silent and snug, both a little teary, until James sighed and slumped against John.

“I just... I don’t want to need you,” James breathed in his ear, barely audible. 

The confession pulled a low grunt from John’s chest, and he let out a huff of air against James’ temple. He had no response to give. James’ fear was his own to bear; all John could do was love him as he worked through it. 

_ Fuck. _

They weren’t supposed to be there yet. 

John didn’t fall in love this fast. He fucked people easily, joyfully, and spent time with them in much the same way. He enjoyed closeness with friends and was good at being there for people who needed help, and all of those were types of love he felt willingly, gladly. Love was important. For everyone. 

But this - this effervescence in his chest, the deep longing in his gut, the fondness that threatened to undo him, the well of caring he had for this man, the intense pleasure at being claimed in every way by him - this was clear and obvious and very much him falling in love. And it felt fucking glorious and he wouldn’t for the world deny it but he was absolutely  _ Not Ready _ for it.

And it was obvious that James wasn’t either. 

Whether James could feel John quail at this highly inconvenient revelation or not was unclear. Regardless, it seemed James needed to muster courage to get through the next thing he said. 

He kept his face near the side of John’s head, which meant John couldn’t see his expression when he said, “I want to _ want  _ you, to continue to choose you every day because of who  _ you _ are, not of what I lack...”

“Baby. Come here.” 

They were already pressed so closely together it was making John feverish - the heat from the pans on the stove combining with James’ body heat to create sauna-like conditions - and James huffed, either in exasperation at John’s asking the impossible or in frustration that he couldn’t follow the instruction. 

And yet, somehow, they managed to hold each other closer, tighter, more desperately than before, and even as it scared the shit out of John, it felt exactly right. It satisfied a desire in him to both feel and show his love for James in that moment. 

It took John a little while to realize that James was holding his breath, trying to push back emotion that was welling up in him, and just when he caught on, James let out a sob that shook his frame. 

“Oh, darling. Oh James. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I know, it sucks. Grief is—”

“No,” James was breathing hard, almost as if he were trying to exhale whatever had built up in him before it could betray him with another sob. “Just... You’re so good to me. And I’m trying, I am, I... Someday I’ll be good enough for you—”

“James. Jamie.” John pulled back and took James’ face in both his hands, looking him directly in the eye. “Don’t. I absolutely don’t deserve you. Not even a little bit. But I am working every day to change that. To be the person you deserve to have as a partner. You don’t get to say you’re not good enough when you’ve treated me so much better—”

“I’ve been a fucking mess John.”

“You’ve been so good to me. You’ve let me into your solitude, you’ve cooked for me and taken care of me, hell you’ve taken care of my cats when my work schedule has gotten weird. You’ve been nothing but understanding about, well, everything, even when I haven’t given you enough information to actually understand things...” He held up his hand, more to himself for getting off track than as a reminder to James to continue being a fucking sweetheart and not ask about his past. “Not to mention how fucking beautifully you’ve fucked me, just the way I need it, _ and... _ You’ve let me fuck you, which Jesus fucking Christ Jamie, I don’t think you understand what that’s like but it’s...” 

Again he was getting off track, but he hadn’t said a single untrue thing. It had been nearly three years since he’d had a partner, someone who deeply cared about him as a person, not just a fun guy and a good lay, and he was still reeling from how sweet it tasted to be in a caring relationship. 

“Usually... well, recently, after a month or two, either I or the other person is feeling like they’ve had their fill. And the itch to be free has caught hold of one or sometimes both of us, and it’s time to let go. But. I haven’t felt so _ not ready _ to let go in... a very long time. Please don’t get mad at yourself for not wanting to, either, because I dunno what I’d do if you—”

James’ strong hands were in his hair and then his mouth was on John’s. Fervent, near reverent kisses, hard, biting kisses, deep, filthy kisses, playful and deadly serious and knee-weakening kisses. James didn’t stop kissing him until they were both gasping, trembling, overcome, with John somehow sitting on the table and James standing between his knees. 

“Fuck, Jamesie.”

“Yes.”

“I fucking love you.”

John snapped his mouth shut the moment he said it, but there it was. Out and in the world. He couldn’t unsay it. 

And James was struck dumb. His chest was still heaving and his body swayed as if he was woozy, so John wrapped his legs around him so he couldn’t fall except against John’s body. 

He didn’t. Fall. He just stared in awe at John for so long John forgot what had stopped them and then remembered it again, his cheeks flushing at the echo of the words in his ears. 

Finally, James almost dreamily said, “Yes.” 

He leaned into John, repeating, “Yes, yes,” hands on his chest, his neck, tugging his shoulder, his hip, pulling him close — nearly off the table to be pressed against James’ entire torso, pelvis to chest. 

He was trembling, or maybe John was. Either way, John shivered hard when James brushed his lips against the shell of John’s ear and breathed, hot and urgent, “Please let me show you how much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the teasing ending but the chapter was too long already and I promise to post the next one tomorrow. <3


	6. Putting the Paws in Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamesie: Darling.
> 
> Me: Yes, sweetheart?
> 
> Jamesie: I miss my kittens.
> 
> Me: MY kittens. And what am I, chopped liver?
> 
> Jamesie: They love you as much as if you were. But also you were included in that.
> 
> Me: XD But... It’s possible they love you more.
> 
> Me: I’m pretty sure you’re the human embodiment of catnip.
> 
> Jamesie: They make me just as happy.
> 
> Me: Sometimes it’s hard to witness the love affair you are having with my kit-kats.
> 
> Me: I don’t think of myself as a jealous person but.
> 
> Jamesie: Does it really make you sad? Should I not ask for a playdate?
> 
> Me: Am I allowed to be there too?
> 
> Jamesie: ...I was assuming so?
> 
> Me: Idk maybe you wanted Jem to come over and help you in the garden or something.
> 
> Jamesie: I was thinking more Attack Our Toes Under Your Blanket...

They fell into bed in a fever of passion, tugging each others clothes off and kissing everything they could reach as they went. John was making little noises of need and distress and delight depending on how much of James was within reach, how much of his weight was pressing down on him. James gave him whatever he wanted, without hesitation. 

But he fucking needed, desperately, to feel John, to be overcome by the feel of him, to know that this wasn’t going away any time soon, that he was allowed to want it -  _ him  _ \- to have him. That John wanted James just as much. 

And he needed the physical confirmation of what John had just said in order to believe it. He also needed to finally show that he felt the same way.

Mouth against John’s ear, James panted, “Please, love. Please let me - I need to feel you - fuck,  _ please _ .”

“Anything, everything, James. Do it.” 

He grabbed the lube off the nightstand and prepped as quickly as he dared, mouthing at John’s luscious cock as he did. Feeling his own pulse in his hands and throat and ears, he lined himself up and sank down on John’s cock one slow, delicious, excruciating inch at a time. 

John, bless him, didn’t move, just moaned long and low as James engulfed him. It took a long time to get all the way down to sitting on John’s lap, but once he was fully seated, filled up to bursting, the pain that had shattered his vision eased and the errant pleasure coalesced and deepened, a soothing pool. 

He chuckled darkly and opened his eyes to look down at John, who stared up with naked awe. His pupils were blown, making his eyes dark and endless, the smile on his face beatific. James never wanted the moment to end. 

Until he shifted slightly and John grunted at the pressure on his cock and bucked up into James - just a little, gently, as if it was an unconscious response. A hard shiver wracked James’ body at that little show of need, sparking nerve endings in him that demanded more, so much more. 

James started to move in earnest, ravenous for the sensations - the feelings, the noises - John’s cock dragged out of him. They hadn’t done it like this in a while and James had forgotten how blissful John seemed when he was both giving and not in charge. He was as pliant as when James tied him down, but needy in a whole different way, chasing the pleasure offered instead of pleading to be given it. 

Well, the tone of voice may have been pleading, but the words weren’t. Not quite. “James, James, fuck, darling. You’re so good, Christ. Ah - yes, yes, Jesus, Ahh fuck. That’s right. That’s it, come on, baby. All filled up. God, look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous. C’mere.” 

James did exactly what he himself wanted when they were like this, and John mostly just held onto his hips and babbled about how good it was, but when he asked for something, James would stop everything to give it to him. Or in this case, continue rocking on his prick just fast enough to build pleasure without it spilling over while leaning down to kiss John. 

The change in angle made him gasp into John’s mouth, a whole different part of his rim flaring in pleasure at the drag of John’s cock, and John chuckled as he swallowed James’ noises, kissing and licking and biting, owning James’ mouth and revelling in every inch. 

“Mine,” John breathed, and James whimpered, his throat closing on an emotion too big to name. He felt seen and understood and cherished and claimed, a belonging he hadn’t experienced in a decade, a feeling he hadn’t thought to miss in years. He felt loved. And he was full of it. So much so that it spilled out of him to return to the source, the feedback loop as immediate as the rolling sparks of pleasure between their bodies as they fucked. 

_ “Mine,” _ James growled, both in agreement and correction as he grabbed John’s wrists and held them down amidst the curls fanned out on the mattress. He rocked harder, at a near punishing pace, and John panted and moaned and tossed his head as he started to drown in the sensation James was pulling out of him.

He tended to lose coherency at this point, one word caught in a string, spooled out into a mantra right before he came, so James shouldn’t have been surprised at what John said next, but the shock of it reverberated through him nonetheless. “Mine, mine, my love, my heart, my - fuck - my, my... _my_ _God_ babe, yes. My Jamie, my baby, my _fuck,_ my love. Love. I love. Mine, mine, mine—” 

Every word hit James like striking a bell, deep and resonant and true. A clear tone that concentrated and communicated everything he’d been afraid to feel until John admitted he felt it, too. John’s pleasure was his as well, just like his love - their love - and James could feel every drop of both wash over him as John reached his peak...

And then he cut off, breath halted mid-word, frozen in ecstasy, as he pulsed inside James over and over, his thick, enflamed head insistent against that spot inside that made James see stars. 

James gritted his teeth and clenched around John, willing his orgasm to hold off, not wanting to be blinded by his own pleasure and miss witnessing his lover’s. 

When John finally took a breath, every muscle in him went slack, and he collapsed beneath James with a rasping laugh. His eyes slid half-open and James watched John take him in, still perched atop his body, hands splayed on John’s chest, flushed and full and nearly vibrating with the built-up pleasure cycling inside him, given no outlet. 

“Yours,” James whispered. 

John’s eyes flashed with desire and he freed his wrists to pull James down on top of him, then rolled them both over, licking into James’ mouth and rocking hard into his ass, pushing broken moans out through his chest and swallowing them down. James kept his knees up and John used the angle to his advantage, rutting directly into James’ prostate over and over. The wave of pleasure was just starting to peak once again when John whispered, “Go on, babe. Please. For me,” and licked his palm to stroke James’ heavy, aching cock.

It took maybe three strokes before James was crying out John’s name, shuddering and gasping and spilling hotly over his own stomach and John’s hand. The tears in his eyes had nothing to do with the extreme pleasure of his orgasm, and everything to do with the man who gave it to him. 

The man who was smiling down at him with an expression of such fondness, such tenderness, such care, that James had a hard time meeting his gaze. He pulled John down into a slow, lazy kiss, then held him close so he could bury his nose in his lover’s hair. 

Being engulfed in John’s scent was blissful, especially after sex when his shampoo, aftershave, and cologne were overpowered by all the animal odors they’d created in the course of sweating, kissing, and coming on and in each other. James took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping to syphon off some of the pressure in his chest from the emotions building up there. 

“Good?” John mumbled against James’ shoulder.

“Yes,” James huffed in amusement. “Obviously.”

“Not the sex, you.” John slid his hands under James’ lower back; he arched it to give them room. 

“Yeah. Just hoping it was enough.”

John raised his head and gave James a bemused look. James smiled sideways and murmured, “Enough to show you how much I love you.”

John’s smile dropped into a look of naked shock, eyes wide and bluer than blue. 

James’ heart skittered painfully into his throat. “What?”

“Fuck, you actually said it. I... didn’t think you’d say it.”

Letting out a deep breath sounded like exasperation, but to be fair, James wasn’t that far off, now his heart was back where it should be. “Am I that bad?”

“I assumed habit was the culprit. I don’t judge. But may I remind you that you first said ‘thank you’ to me less than two months ago?”

“You didn’t deserve my thanks until two months ago.” 

James chuckled maniacally as John’s jaw dropped and he batted at James’ chest in protest. 

“You asshole! Why the fuck do I love you?”

“I don’t know but please don’t ever stop.” What was meant as a joke in the offing landed much more seriously than James had intended, and he wasn’t sure he could hide his worry as he stared up at his young lover.

John, for his part, handled the moment beautifully, his voice soothing as his hands stroked James’ chest hair. “I have no plans to. I’ll do my part if you do yours.”

“Deal.” The word came out rough, and nothing was able to follow, but John relieved James of the need to speak by kissing his lips, then his cheekbone, then his neck, and settling back down on top of his chest. James stroked John’s hair tenderly and willed the lump in his throat away. 

“Shit. We still have jam to make.” John’s voice was just shy of a low whine or a grumble, but only just. Which was fair. James didn’t want to end this moment, either.

“Later, my love. We’ve got time.” 

At James’ words, John hummed in delight and shifted into a more comfortable position on top of James. “I propose a nap, then dinner, then late-night jamming.”

It was James’ turn to hum, in agreement, as he shifted under John. Their cocks dragged against each other and James grunted, still a bit too sensitive. 

John’s breath caught and he moved in response, but against James instead of away. “Or.... nap, then you make sure I know  _ exactly _ how much you love me,  _ then _ dinner and late-night jamming.” His lilt always sounded more mischievous when he used the lower part of his register. 

“Mmmm, you make a compelling argument. Let’s see how we feel when we wake up.” James dragged his fingertips, with the barest hint of nail, up John’s back from ass to shoulders. John rolled his spine like a cat responding to a good scratch. 

“Do that again, and we’re not going to sleep any time soon...” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“A simple fact.”

And with that, James repeated the motion, with a little more nail this time. 

The rest of the jam didn’t get made until the next day.   
  


~~

 

**Jamesie:** _ Darling. _

**Me:** _ Yes, sweetheart? _

**Jamesie:** _ I miss my kittens. _

**Me:** _ MY kittens. And what am I, chopped liver? _

**Jamesie:** _ They love you as much as if you were. But also you were included in that. _

**Me:** _ XD But... It’s possible they love you more. _

**Me:** _ I’m pretty sure you’re the human embodiment of catnip. _

**Jamesie:** _ They make me just as happy. _

**Me:** _ Sometimes it’s hard to witness the love affair you are having with my kit-kats. _

**Me:** _ I don’t think of myself as a jealous person but. _

**Jamesie:** _ Does it really make you sad? Should I not ask for a playdate? _

**Me:** _ Am I allowed to be there too? _

**Jamesie:** _...I was assuming so? _

**Me:** _ Idk maybe you wanted Jem to come over and help you in the garden or something. _

**Jamesie:** _ I was thinking more Attack Our Toes Under Your Blanket, but... _

**Me:** _ But? _

**Jamesie:** _ Well, it would be nice to have a companion or two during the days here.  _

**Jamesie:** _ What if... _

**Me:** _ Baby, I’m at work. Five minutes between cliffhanger messages is fucking with my productivity. _

**Jamesie:** _ Sorry. I’ve been trying but I’m bad at phrasing things like this textually. And it should probably wait until we’re together.  _

**Me:** _ That... doesn’t sound great.  _

**Me:** _ And now I’m worried.  _

_ Gimme a hint? _

**Jamesie:** _ Nothing bad. Just... thinking of what a consolidated household would look like.  _

**Me:** _ ...did you just  _

**Me:** _ Did you just ask me to move in with you?  _

_ Because you miss my fucking cats?? _

**Jamesie:** _ No! _

**Jamesie:** _ A little? But not just that!  _

**Jamesie:** _ I don’t know, it seems like a not horrible idea? _

**Me:** _...no.  _

_ Not horrible. Logistically it’s fucking smart. _

**Me:** _ They hate how little I’m home, but if they had you to _

**Me:** _ OMFG I’m seriously considering this. Why, James? _

**Me:** _ Why while I’m at work?? _

**Jamesie:** _ Sorry. That was unfair. We should be having this discussion over dinner.  _

**Jamesie:** _ It’s black bean and sweet potato quesadillas btw. _

**Me:** _ With that cilantro avocado crema on top? _

**Jamesie:** _ Y _

**Me:** _ I fucking love you. _

**Me:** _ Wait, is that... okay? _

_ To say it like that? _

**Jamesie:** _? _

**Me:** _ You haven’t... said it. Much.  _

**Jamesie:** _ That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to say it, if you feel like it. _

**Me:** _ I kinda always feel like it. But I don’t want to overwhelm. _

**Jamesie:** _ Don’t ever worry about that, love.  _

**Me:** _ Okay. Thanks, babe. _

**Jamesie:** _ You’re welcome. You’ll be home at 6? _

**Me:** _ Home meaning your house?  _

**Jamesie:** _ Y _

**Me:** _  Since when is that a thing? _

**Jamesie:** _Since I asked you to share it with me._

**Me:** _ <3 <3 <3  _

**Me:** _ (Also yes, 6. Possibly a little after.) _

**Jamesie:** _ Okay, good. See you then. :* _   
  


John shook his head and put his phone away before heading to examine his next patient. He had to not think about that entire conversation for the rest of the afternoon or he’d never survive the four hours until dinner.

But at that moment, the idea of dinner with James caused a riot of butterflies in his stomach. 

It had only been about three months. Three fucking months since Rus died and James had allowed John into his life. 

And here they were using the L word and talking about moving in together. 

That was fucking absurd, right?

He needed to stop thinking about it. He needed to focus on the sweet pitty puppy that had a tear in his ear from a run-in with that super aggro pekingese who never got properly trained. And also has a shitty owner who thinks pitbulls are the devil’s spawn and didn’t do anything to stop the fight. 

But James had actually asked John to move in with him, which felt huge. And yet at the same time he hadn’t returned the  _ ‘I love you.’ _ In fact, he hadn’t said it outside of sex in... had he ever? Going back and forth between those two clashing truths meant John’s stomach was going to be in low-level riot mode the rest of the day. 

...Until he stepped into James’ kitchen and saw him with an apron on, licking a beater covered in avocado crema, and he got to watch his lover’s face flush in pleasure at seeing him. 

“Jesus Christ, I love you.” It came unbidden to John’s lips, and this time he wasn’t going to second guess himself or apologize. It was a true thing. It was always true, no matter what.

James paused at John’s words, mouth open and eyes wide, then brought the other beater over and held it out for John to lick. 

As soon as he had a tongueful of crema, John grabbed James by the hips and pulled him close enough for their foreheads to touch. The bright tang of the crema and the solid heat of James’ body grounded John, and for the first time in hours, the buzzing inside him calmed down. Coming home to this man was something he wanted to do every day of his life, fuck everything else. 

When James kissed his cheekbone and whispered “I love you, too,” everything inside John stilled, quiet and sure. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding, their temples brushing. “Thank you.” 

“I may be frustratingly slow and impressively bad at things, but I’m not dense, John. People who love to say it often also love to hear it.” James’ mouth was in John’s hair, the strands catching in his beard so John could feel the words as well as hear them.

John simply smiled, heart full. The heat of James’ body, combined with his understanding, allowed John to melt against him, mold his form to his lover’s in the most satisfying way.

“And really, I should be thanking you, my love.” 

James stroked John’s back in that delicious way that made his spine tingle, so John was a little slow with his reply. “For what, babe?”

“This. All of it.” James shifted his arms around John’s shoulders to hold him a little tighter and they both sighed. “Thank you for loving me like you do. Thank you for putting up with how bad I am at things. Just because I haven’t said the word ‘love’ much, doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. But I’ll work on saying it more because you deserve to hear it.”

“Oh, baby, you’re doing great.” John kissed James’ neck, then nuzzled into the crook of it where his scent lingered — he always smelled like sweat and earth and sun-warmed skin at the end of the day and John could never get enough.

“I’m trying. I’m working to be better for you.” The sincerity in James’ voice nearly made John choke up, but he did manage to answer after a moment. 

“I know, and I’ve got something for you, to show my appreciation.”

James pulled away far enough to look quizzically at John, who just smiled and grabbed his hand to lead him into the front room. 

There, in the middle of the floor, was his cat carrier. 

James dropped to his knees and bent over to look inside. Jem’s big bright eyes could be seen through the bars. They stared at each other until John said, “Open it, babe.”

With a bewildered glance back at John, James did as he was told, and his soft gasp when Scout followed Jem out of the carrier made John’s chest fill with a fizzing, tingling warmth and the ache of gratitude. 

“But...”

“You said you missed them.”

“Yeah.” James was riveted in place, the kit-kats head-butting his hands and legs as they swarmed around him. “But you said—”

“I thought about it when I stopped home after work and realized they’d see me just as much, maybe more, if they were here. And they’d have you for much of the day too.” 

“Aren’t they indoor cats, though? I’m in the garden a lot.”

“We can negotiate that. Scout is intrepid but not stupid and Jem is a scaredy cat and will probably stick to you like glue.” 

James looked helplessly up at John, his fingers busy scratching down Jem’s back from ears to tail, while Scout tried to climb onto his shoulders from where she was standing on his thighs. “So does this mean you’ll...”

“I’m month-to-month at my place, but I thought maybe I wouldn’t give my landlord notice until we’ve tried this for a bit? I dunno.”

“No, that’s... that’s smart.” James boosted Scout’s butt up onto his shoulders where she was out of his line of sight and then reached out for John to join them on the floor. 

He did. Of course. He was so in love with all of this it was stupid.

“There's a second bedroom off the kitchen. I just use it as a workroom - mostly as storage at this point. I can clean it out this week and we can move the daybed in...”

“Yeah, okay. That would be good, to have my own space. If nothing else it can be where you banish me when you get sick of me.” 

By James’ confused frown, John could tell his lighthearted tease had fallen flat. “I'm not - I don't get - why would you—”

“Babe, we both know you can't handle being around people as much as I can. It's fine. I won't take offense if I've got somewhere to go.”

James nodded, eyes on Jem, who had climbed into his lap. “I want you to feel like this is your place, too.”

“The kit-kats are here - that’s the first step. If I can bring some of my furniture and set up a spot for my guitar, then I'm good.”

“Absolutely. We can rearrange anything.” James leaned against John and Scout minced from one set of shoulders to the other, rubbing against John’s curls before hopping down into the circle of his legs. James scratched her chin as he said, “Are you really okay with this? I don’t want you to feel rush—”

“More than okay. It should probably feel too soon, but it doesn’t. And I think it really will be better for the kits.” 

“Yeah,” James agreed with a sigh which made it clear that it wouldn’t just be better for the four-legged members of the household. “I’m glad to have everyone in one place. Feels right.”

“Not just one place, your place,” John said with a fond smile. 

Flint’s eternal frown was back on his face, but John had gotten good at recognizing when it meant he was thoughtful, when he was unsure, and when he was actually angry. This was definitely not the latter. “I know, I’m sorry, but this property contains my livelihood. I really can’t ever move away.”

“It’s all right, Jamie. I don’t mind.”

“You won’t miss your place?” This frown was the concerned one, which somehow allowed for raised eyebrows and a wrinkled forehead. 

“The only time that dump ever felt anything besides depressing was when you were in it. There’s so much more possibility in this house, with you.”

“Lots of history, too.”

“I like that about it. About you. As long as you’re ready to make a future here with me, we’ll be fine.”

“I’m ready.” James’ smile held its customary drop of sorrow, but John understood that. Taking a new step forward meant leaving the previous one behind. Sometimes that was exhilarating, other times it was painful. Every once in a while it was both. 

James took John’s hand in his and stroked the knuckles tenderly. “You - all three of you, the whole family -  belong here.”

John reached out with his free hand and ran his fingers through James’ hair, who purred at the touch. When all was said and done, John had to acknowledge that he’d basically just adopted a third cat - a big ginger tom who was a grumpy old asshole but who loved him unreservedly. And fuck if he wasn’t going to work hard every day to be worthy of that love. 

Because if they were both going to be in this together - this life, this house, this family - it would be a lot of work. But it was work John was more than willing to do, because the fruits of that labor? Well. He  couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.

He pressed his forehead to his lover's, their kit-kats purring on their laps between them, and murmured, “Yeah. It already feels like home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!   
> I'm zooeyscigar over on tumblr if you want to squee about black sails with me.   
> <3


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